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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870302">Don't Give Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtyjensen/pseuds/flirtyjensen'>flirtyjensen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It, Hopeless Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Suicidal Dean Winchester, better than the finale tho, episode 15x20 does not exist, horribly written violence, this is the new finale, we storm the cw at dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:42:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtyjensen/pseuds/flirtyjensen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is in the Empty. He's never coming back, and Dean is slowly coming to the realization that he's gone. Chuck is gone. Jack is gone. Cas is gone. All Dean has is his brother. But is it enough? Sam sees the light fading from Dean's eyes and does everything he can to show, to prove to his brother, that there is hope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hopeless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really hated the finale and have been thinking about what I would have written. This kind of got out of hand....I'm not even close to being finished with the story. It's a WIP so bear with me, people. Cas isn't really in this chapter physically but it's getting there! Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam awakens from his nightmare, disoriented. The visions of seeing himself grow old, having a family and dying feel all too real. The beginning of his nightmare is fading and somewhat fuzzy but he remembers Dean making an appearance. He remembers seeing himself fight alongside his brother, killing some vampires, a normal hunt. Then his memory clears and the image of his brother impaled against a wooden pole catches his breath. </p><p>He wipes a hand across his face, trying to erase the images of Dean saying goodbye, of Dean's hand dropping as he took his last breath, and the image of lighting his own brother's pyre. </p><p>Sam pulls the covers off and walks toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The bunker is quiet, peaceful even. He still hasn't gotten used to calling it home, not really. The thing about a home is, four walls don't constitute it. Family is similar. It's not based on who you're related to but who loves you and has your back. Family, a home, whatever they are things you build around you. He had learned that long ago.</p><p>The wooden floors creak as he walks through the library. The silence is deafening yet comforting. It's a reminder that, for once, the world isn't ending. The linoleum sends shivers down his spine as he enters the kitchen. Sam replays the nightmare in his head while he downs a glass of water from the sink. The images slowly become distorted and misplaced in his memory. He eventually cannot picture it in his mind. </p><p>Sighing, Sam places the glass in the sink and walks back to his room. His feet make a pit-pat noise, approaching the hallway. Dean's door is cracked open slightly with faint light seeping through. Sam turns toward the door and peers in. His face softens, taking in the scene. Dean is cuddling a pillow adorned with a worn, rough, blue pillow case. The light emits from a lone lamp on his desk. Some type of paper for a mechanic position sits atop a few books from the library. Sam eyes the paperwork, puzzled.<em> Dean never told me he got a job. </em> Underneath, one of the books has a bookmark in three different places. There are a few crumpled up papers on the desk and around the floor. Sam picks one up and unravels it.</p><p>
  <em> Cas I know you're in the empty and you probably can't hear me….why did you do it? Why didn't you tell me about the deal before? I know I messed up and Billie was about to kill us both but….we could have <strike>died together</strike> found another way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why didn't you tell me? </em>
</p><p>Sam picks up another one. This time it's the one closest to the trash can. The markings are a bit sharper than the paper before. Almost more angry. It appears some words are smudged but still legible.</p><p><em>I try to move on and put on a brave face for Sammy. He needs to know now that Chuck is gone we can move on. We have to. I have tried to find a way to bring you back Cas. None of the books are fucking useful. I can't read Enochian. I don't even know if Enochian text is the key to saving you. I've tried contacting Rowena but i think she's busy. I'm at my wits end. I haven't gotten much sleep to be honest. As I'm writing this I have looked</em> <em>through 28 books all based on portals to other dimensions, hell, sacrificial rituals and reverse rituals. Even Astral projecting. I don't know what to do….</em></p><p>Sam swallows past the dry lump caught in his throat. He glances at Dean, making sure he's still asleep. Dean briefly shifts, pulling the pillow closer. Sam relaxes and picks up one more crumpled up paper. This one appears fresh, as if Dean wrote it tonight.</p><p>
  <em>I tried praying to the angels. They didn't listen. No one is listening. Jack isn't even listening. He took himself out of the story, I know but this is you I'm talking about. How can he just sit by while you're suffering. I guess I'm on my own.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did you say that now? </em>
</p><p>The last sentence confuses Sam. He burrows his eyebrows as he studies the three entries. <em> Dean is searching for a way to save Cas. To bring him back. And he didn't tell me? </em> Sam quietly crunches the papers back up and places them back where he found them. Dean doesn't move. As Sam switches the lamp off, he feels the heaviness of the dark engulf him. <em> I have to talk to Dean tomorrow.  </em></p><p>Dean rolls over as the aroma of burnt bacon fills his room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. Realizing that Sam is about to burn the bunker down, he slips on his robe and jogs to the kitchen. </p><p>"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"</p><p>"Well good morning to you too," Sam replies a bit offended. He's flipping bacon as Dean yanks the tongs out of his grip. "What- I am making breakfast. Can I not make breakfast?"</p><p>"I don't know what you think you're making but it definitely, definitely ain't breakfast," Dean smarts. He trashes the burnt bacon and starts a new batch. "Sit. No, why don't you make some coffee."</p><p>"Already did. Here ya go," Sam slides Dean's mug across the island, "your highness," Sam says under his breath. </p><p>"What was that?"</p><p>"Nothing. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."</p><p>"Yeah, me too," Sam perks up. "I think I found something that screams our kinda thing. We should head there after we eat breakfast. It's not too long of a drive." Dean finishes as he places the cooked bacon on some paper towels and grins from ear to ear. Sam just watches as his brother starts on some scrambled eggs. <em> This might be more challenging than I had hoped. </em> </p><p>"So when you said our sorta thing you meant pie?"</p><p>"I meant pie," Dean confirms with a satisfied smirk. "Now, I'm gonna go eat me some of that pie."</p><p>"Didn't we-Dean we just had breakfa- nevermind," Sam gives in and follows Dean through the crowd. </p><p>Several families are participating in the pie fest. Some are gearing up to find out who can eat the most pie, who makes the best pumpkin pie, and some are just making whip cream pies and pieing each other. Sam observes those around him with a small smile. A life he desperately wants someday but knows he can't have. <em> Or can I?  </em></p><p>Dean approaches Sam with a big box and almost runs into some bystander. "Hey, watch it."</p><p>"What is that?" Sam raises an eyebrow. </p><p>"I couldn't pick just one! Come on, Sammy we're at a pie fest. What do you take me for?"</p><p>"An idiot."</p><p>Dean ponders his answer and let's it slide. He picks up one of the pies and offers it to his brother. Sam declines. "Dude, you gotta at least try it."</p><p>"No, really I'm good." </p><p>"Alright, what is it? What's got you so down today?"</p><p>"Nothing. I'm fine," Sam replies. </p><p>"No, see I know my baby brother. So I know that is your sad Sam face. Fess up, what's wrong?"</p><p>"I'm not-" Sam begins, but Dean gives him a look. </p><p>"I don't know. I'm just thinking about Cas, about Jack."</p><p>Dean's expression falls. He looks down and places the pie back in its spot. "Yea me too. I think about them too. Every day. But we have to move on, Sam. Live our lives. Or else that sacrifice, it will all be for nothing," Dean looks at Sam. "So help me finish this pie."</p><p>Dean reaches down for the same pie again but his face is met with a cold surface. Sam smothers the pumpkin pie in Dean's face, laughing. "You know what, I do feel better!" </p><p>Sam shakes his hand to free the whip cream, watching Dean rake the remainder of the pie off his chin with his fork. Suddenly, Sam's temples begin pulsing painfully and he has an immense sense of deja vu. His smile falters and he feels out of place. Almost, as if he's reliving this moment. It's similar to the feeling he had this morning. </p><p>"Hey, Sam. You okay?"</p><p>"Uh, yeah." He's not honestly sure if everything is okay. </p><p>Sam texts Eileen and tells her he wants to make up for the date they missed months ago. She agrees it has been too long and tonight would work for her. Sam doesn't want to make promises, as the day is still young, but they plan for their date tonight at 7. Dean teases Sam about it even though the two are already a couple. Saying things like, "don't do anything I wouldn't do" or "make sure you use protection." Sam just sighs and shakes his head. </p><p>It's 6:35 pm and nothing has come across the wire. Social media is quiet, so Sam texts Eileen that the date is a go. She replies five minutes later, ready to go and excited to see Sam. Dean offers to let Sam take the Impala out to pick Eileen up. For once in a long time, Sam is excited. When he reaches the garage door, Sam glances back at his brother and sees him nursing a brand new whiskey bottle. Sam frowns at the sight. Dean deserves to feel excited, to be happy. Sam will go on this date with Eileen, tell her about Cas, and they will come back to help Dean. Help Dean get his best friend back. <em> Our best friend back </em>. </p><p>Dean waves his brother off and slumps into the chair in the library. It's not very comfortable. In fact, the wooden back is digging into his thoracic spine and causing some pain. But it's better than the alternative. The alternative of thinking about what he's lost, who he's lost, and how he lost them. <em> That pain will never go away. Right now I can focus on this acute pain and center my thoughts on it. Keep myself from sinking into the dark hole of nothing I've been trying to climb out of since I lost - since I lost </em></p><p>Dean finishes the whiskey bottle before Sam gets home and he's still not drunk enough. He rises from the chair and walks to the liquor cart. All the bottles are half empty or nothing but drops of whiskey, gathering at the bottom of the glass. He picks up one empty glass bottle and stares at it for several moments. His vision becomes distorted from the small glass textures, his left ear begins to ring from the silence as he falls into a trance like state. Then, a glint of sapphire reflects in the textured glass. It catches his eye; Dean swallows. Suddenly, he's thinking of Castiel. <em> Cas </em>. He's thinking of "I love you's" and "Goodbye, Dean" and black goo. He's thinking of how the image of his best friend disappearing into a black mass of nothing is seared in his memory forever. He's thinking of how he didn't get to say goodbye, or anything really, and now he never will. </p><p>He grimaces at the bottle, squeezes the neck so hard his knuckles blanche, and throws it across the room, into the kitchen. It lands by the island, shattering to pieces, with a deafening crash. Dean feels his eyes burning and hot tears gathering at the corners. Before he realizes, Dean is grabbing all the glass bottles and throwing them into the kitchen. In his fit of rage, Dean throws one bottle too high and it shatters against the side of the kitchen table. Glass spreads across the floor. He doesn't even register the intensity of the mess until one bottle knocks off another, shattering it at his feet. He stops throwing the bottles, breaking from his trance. </p><p>"I tried everything! I can't save you! There's nothing left! How could you do this to me, you son of a bitch," Dean cries. He places his hands on either side of his head, thinking. "Jack! How can you just leave us? We need you. Cas needs you! Fuck this all powerful, all knowing God bullshit. We're family!" Dean tosses the cart over. "Isn't that enough?" He pauses and glances around for a moment. Nothing. "Dammit, Jack. Why won't you answer my prayers? I need some help!" He cries out and slowly sits down. "I can't do this on my own," he whispers between his sniffles. He begs over and over again <em> please please please </em> in his head for a few moments. But he's met with silence like every other time. Dean accepts this and wipes his tears away, picks the cart up, grabs the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and picks up his mess. He can't have Sam see what a hypocrite he truly has become. </p><p>Dean cuts himself on a few lone pieces of glass, but it's nothing he can't handle. In fact, for a brief moment, the pain gives him something to focus on. He mindlessly watches the crimson slowly drain down the sink as he holds his palm under the running water. He wonders what it feels like to float down the water, through the pipes, through the darkness, into nothing. <em>What is wrong with me?</em> <em>But that's where Cas is right now. A bunch of nothing.</em> Dean grabs a hand towel and wraps it around his left hand before returning to the broom. The kitchen is just about clean. Within about 5 minutes, all the glass and spilled whiskey is gone. Almost as if it never happened. Dean places the broom and dustpan back in the corner and trudges through the hallways. </p><p>There is a secret stash of whiskey in his man cave that Dean hid for emergencies. And this constitutes an emergency. He walks to the wall, removes a Star Wars poster from the fifth movie, and pulls out a few bricks, revealing the beautiful brown bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not his favorite but Dean was in a rush when he bought it a couple of weeks ago before they defeated Chuck just in case anything went sideways. Also, in case Sam found his stash at least it wouldn't be his good whiskey. Popping the cap off, Dean takes a long swig as he stumbles toward the couch. Sam should be home soon. <em> I'll be done with this bottle by then and be able to forget anything blue for a while. </em>Except all he dreams of is blue. </p><p>Bright blue swirls fill his dreams as he drifts off. He feels immense warmth as the blue wraps around him like a large ribbon and he floats above the grass. The ribbon caresses Dean like a soft, silk cloud, holding him in place. A slight breeze causes the ribbon to ripple in harmony and alternate between hues of blue. The colors circulate between indigo to azure to cobalt to cerulean to teal and finally midnight blue effortlessly. Dean sees dark angels wings above and feels safe. He flies higher as the ribbon ascends toward the wings. Flashes of cerulean eyes skip by, sad and yearning, before Dean is pulled down into dark azure ocean water by the wings. The ribbon of blue dissolves into nothing. Dean feels alone. In dreams, people don't usually have their sense of smell, but Dean swears he smells hints of sandalwood, a campfire, and honey. Then, he sees Castiel materialize before him with his wings extended, long and wide. Beautiful. They're untouched with no sign of rebellion or impurities. Just as Dean had first seen them. <em> Before he met me. Before he rebelled and lost everything for me. I cursed you, Cas. </em> Green eyes lock with blue and Castiel smiles at Dean. Then suddenly, Castiel's wings begin to dissipate and burn away. He appears to scream in pain. Dean reaches out just as soon as the water darkens and swarms around Castiel. He thrashes against the thick water but cannot break free. Dean is frozen in the water and at once cannot breathe. He screams out to Castiel but no sound comes out. He, instead, inhales the water. Castiel disappears within the black, thick water just as soon as he appears. He's gone. </p><p>Dean's eyes slowly open. This is a recurring nightmare he's had since Castiel sacrificed himself. <em> Since he left. </em> Dean had hoped the alcohol would impair his subconscious enough to avoid the nightmare. Beer hasn't been strong enough, nor tequila, or vodka. Whiskey is his last resort and apparently it does jack-shit. <em> I need something stronger, if I am to get any sleep. </em> Although the whiskey does not keep the nightmares at bay it does keep him numb. That is enough to continue drinking. He reaches for the bottle and misses. <em> I may be seeing double </em>. After a few tries, Dean successfully retrieves the bottle and downs the remaining third of the whiskey. His head feels heavy and his chest feels hot. Dean can feel his fingers tingling and toes numbing against his socks. This is the sweet spot of feeling drunk, he thinks. </p><p> </p><p>Sam returns from his date, unnoticed, and walks into the room, seeing Dean spread out on the couch. He eyes the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table and sighs. Sam remembers the other whiskey bottle left on the library table. The same one Dean had been nursing before Sam left. <em> Dean is on a bender again. </em> Eileen shuffles up next to Sam and glances at the couch. She looks at Sam with a sad look. At dinner, he filled her in with everything he knows about Castiel and his sacrifice for Dean. But Eileen didn't realize it would affect Dean this badly. She walks over to Dean and pulls the blanket from on top of the couch and covers Dean. He's passed out again and is slightly twitching. His eyes are racing back and forth. </p><p>"We will regroup tomorrow and discuss Plan SOC," Sam whispers while signing. </p><p>"I'm still not sure about the code word," Eileen signs with a grimace. </p><p>"We'll work on it," he signs with a shrug. </p><p> </p><p>The next morning Dean wakes to his Jack Daniel's replaced with three ibuprofen pills and a glass of water. Grateful, he slowly takes them one at a time due to the agonizing headache. Usually he doesn't have headaches or hangovers but the nightmares don't give him much rest. He really isn't able to sleep off the alcohol. Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes to push back the headache, Dean sighs with exhaustion. He doesn't even know what time it is. His watch reads 4:32 but Dean is unsure if it's AM or PM. </p><p>Suddenly, he feels his stomach growl and Dean realizes he hasn't eaten since about noon today. <em> Yesterday? </em> He sloppily rises up and makes his wake toward the kitchen. Nothing really sounds appetizing except for some string cheese. Only, they don't have string cheese. <em> Of course </em>. So, Dean settles for the two day old pepperoni pizza in the fridge. Not too bad, and he will never say no to pizza. Dean isn't sure how long he was passed out but the effects of the whiskey have certainly worn down a bit. He can't walk a straight line, but his vision is more clear. He clumsily carries the pizza box over to the library table next to his laptop and sits it down. Quietly, he pulls the chair out and takes a seat. The hunter in him wants to make sure everything is quiet out in the world. The clock on his laptop confirms its 4:38 AM.</p><p>A few clicks and searches show there's a local mysterious killing. <em> Our kinda thing. </em> Dean smiles, knowing that this case will help keep his mind busy. And he will be able to save someone. At least this way he will feel like his life was worth saving. <em> Ironic. I feel like I've said that before. Why do people feel the need to jump at any chance to save me? I don't deserve saving. Dad sold his soul for me and now Cas. I don't deserve it. </em>He shakes his head and munches down on cold pizza in silence. </p><p>Dean finishes the last three slices of pizza, underestimating how hungry he had been. He watches a few dumb YouTube videos for a while, to keep his mind off things, waiting for Sam to wake up. Dean is tempted to grab a beer from the fridge but decides against it. He needs to be as sober as possible for the hunt, for Sam. If Dean were to go alone, he would not care. Not at this moment anyway. </p><p>Dean has realized his mood swings are ridiculous lately. At one moment, he's super depressed and doesn't care about anything. He honestly doesn't care if he lives or dies.  The next moment he can't wait to see what life has to offer. It's as if his brain doesn't know how to comprehend what Castiel's sacrifice means to him. His thoughts can become so tangled and incoherent Dean doesn't know how to act - what to say. That's why he started writing down some of his thoughts, and then thought how much of girl that made him and crumpled the papers up. Right now, he can really use a moment to write down his thoughts. </p><p>He grabs the notepad and pen on the table and scribbles away. <em> I hate this feeling. What am I supposed to feel? Anger? Sadness? Relief? Emptiness? Frustration? All of the above? Others? You left me with so many unanswered questions and I left you with nothing in return. How am I supposed to go on knowing this? Cas, how can I go minute to minute, hour to hour, knowing what I know now? I fucked up. I had a chance to say what I've been wanting to say for a while and I couldn't. I didn't. Did you even know? I mean do I even fucking know? I can't even hate you to make myself feel better. I can't bring myself to say I hate you for doing this to me. Because I could never hate you. </em> The paper becomes wet with a few tear drops. <em> I will find you, Cas. Just wait for me.  </em></p><p>Dean places the pen next to the notepad after a moment. He wipes his nose with his flannel sleeve. Not many tears fell but his nose is running pretty good. Out of all of his thought entries, this one felt the most cathartic. He sometimes pretends that Castiel can hear him read the words to himself or even hear him as Dean writes the words. Just as Castiel heard his prayer in Purgatory. But he doesn't. He won't. The empty is a dark and torturous place. <em> My prayer and words will be the last things he'd focus on.  </em></p><p>Dean lays his head on the table from exhaustion, but doesn't shut his eyes. He won't risk falling asleep. Instead, he focuses on counting the books on each shelf to his right. Then, once he's done with those he counts the ones on his left. Dean notices some of these books, he nor Sam even use. He doesn't know half of the content in these books. Unfortunately, Dean underestimated how counting can cause drowsiness no matter the subject at play. His eyes begin to drift when Sam walks in with loud footsteps. </p><p>Yawning, Sam says, "What are you doing in here? You should be in bed."</p><p>Dean jerks up, shaking his head from thoughts of sleep. "I found us a case," he replies. </p><p>"Mhm. Is that all you were looking for during the early morning?" Sam asks, eyeing the covered notepad. Dean notices and quickly turns it over. </p><p>"Sam," he warns. "mind your business."</p><p>"Good morning," Eileen joins the boys in the library. </p><p>Dean isn't too surprised to see her here but is happy for Sam nonetheless. "Morning, Eileen. I hope sasquatch here didn't take up the whole bed."</p><p>Eileen blushes and laughs at Dean. "I don't kiss and tell," she winks at Sam as she kisses him on the cheek. "Who wants breakfast?" </p><p>"Yes, please!" Sam signs. </p><p>Sam joins Dean at the table and a long beat passes between them. Sounds in the kitchen of water running, the clinking of plates, and banging of pans fill the silence instead. Dean repositions himself in the chair, still not making eye contact with Sam. Sam, however, is studying Dean. He appears disheveled, bags under his eyes, day old stubble and crust around his lips from dried whiskey. He's a wreck. </p><p>"So this case-" "We need to talk-" They start simultaneously. </p><p>Dean glances up for the first time. "You first."</p><p>"I know about Cas." Dean's eyes widen slightly. "At least I know there's more to the story. You didn't tell me everything and I know whatever happened is eating away at you." Dean gestures to dismiss Sam. "Dean, I know you. I can see it. I know when you get like this it's because of something close to you." Sam pauses. "I also read some of your crumpled up papers." A dark look crosses Dean's face. Almost like he wants to punch Sam. </p><p>"You did what?" Dean says. </p><p>Sam continues, ignoring Dean's comment. "I know you're trying to bring Cas back. I want to help," Sam offers. </p><p>Dean sighs, looking to the side. He knows the many dead ends and how disappointing it is trying to save Cas. He doesn't want to subject his brother to the very same thing. "It's no use, Sam. Everything is a dead end. I've tried everything I can think of. Cas is gone," Dean resigns, defeated. "All we can do now is save people, hunt things, and live our lives. It's what Cas would want. It's what everyone, who we have lost, would want."</p><p>"Dean," Sam starts. "You're giving up way too easily. There is always another way. Don't you always say that?" Dean doesn't respond. "I know how it may seem hopeless but we have options. We have the resources to continue the search to save him. You can't give up now, Dean. This is Cas."</p><p>"I've tried everything I can think of, Sam. Everything! Praying, research, calling Rowena. She doesn't answer. Jack is off grid. I've tried! There's nothing. He's gone!" Dean's voice cracks. He swallows down the pain. "We have to accept that. And however I deal with it is my business. So don't give me those judgy eyes like you are now." Dean says pointedly. </p><p>"But, Dean-"</p><p>"I said no Sam."</p><p>Dean gets up, signaling he's done with this conversation and takes the notepad with him. He doesn't even acknowledge Eileen as she brings breakfast to the library. "The case is pulled up on my laptop. I'm going to get ready." Dean turns the corner and is gone before Sam can reply. </p><p>Eileen's face falls as she holds a plate of french toast, bacon, sausage, and lots of syrup. Then one plate of regular scrambled eggs with toast for Sam. She sits the plates on the table and watches Dean leave. "Is he not hungry? I made his favorite." She says.  </p><p>"It's not that, he's dealing with some, he's just-" Sam doesn't seem to know how to finish his sentence, or fully explain his brother's behavior. </p><p>"Cas?" Eileen offers. Sam nods. </p><p>Sam reads the case on Dean's laptop and begins to feel nauseated. He has a bad feeling. He, again, has a sense of deja vu. Two days in a row, it can't be a coincidence. It's like there is an itch at the back of his brain, crawling to the surface, wanting to show him something. He feels a headache come on and the pain is similar to when he used to get visions as a young adult. The pain grows stronger as the itch continues, pulling toward his frontal lobe. </p><p>Then, a flash of images of Sam and Dean dressed in their normal FBI threads quickly blink by. Another image of them at an abandoned barn fighting some strange, masked creatures. Sam recognizes the mask from Dad's journal. And then a burst of images, showing Sam and Dean fighting these creatures appear. They're vampires! The brothers are winning, slicing the vamp's heads off one after another. The last image shows Dean pushed against something sharp and…<em> Oh no, Dean </em>Sam thinks. </p><p>He grabs his head and shakes the images away. Groaning in pain, he sees he's on the floor. He must have fallen while the vision took over. Eileen is at his side, freaked out. She's signing, "Are you okay?" over and over again. </p><p>Slowly, Sam regains his thoughts and tells Eileen he's okay. Dean rushes by Sam's side by this point after hearing the loud thud from his fall. Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder, in concern. </p><p>"Dude, what the hell happened? Say something. You alright?" Dean glances over Sam, and around the bunker, checking for any intruders. </p><p>"Yea, yea. I'm fine. I feel like I just got hit by a freight train. Like how my visions used to feel." He pauses. "I actually think I just had a vision." Sam looks at Dean with bewilderment and Dean returns the look. </p><p>"I'm sorry. Did you just say you had a vision?"</p><p>"Yea." Sam breathes. </p><p>"You haven't had one of those since you were like in your twenties and yellow eyes was after you. Why the fuck now?"</p><p>"I-I don't know. I thought it was a nightmare, but last night the same images played in my mind. I went all day yesterday feeling a sense of deja vu. The pie fest, reading the case, even eating breakfast."</p><p>All three are silent for quite a while. Their breakfast grows cold but no one pays it any mind. "What if it's a sign?" Eileen questions. </p><p>"Like from God, uh, Jack?" Sam offers. </p><p>Dean huffs in response. He knows damn good and well Jack is staying out of everyone's business. There isn't any possibility Jack is interfering. "I doubt it."</p><p>"It's possible," says Sam. "Maybe he has taken himself out of the narrative, but what if he's helping us still by guiding us through this vision?"</p><p>"He hasn't answered any of my damn prayers since two months ago. Why would he start now?"</p><p>"I don't know, change of heart?" Sam offers, half-heartedly. </p><p>Dean stands and laughs with a bitter shake of his head. "You honestly believe that? Come on, Sam. The kid has a new sense of almighty. We, you, me and Cas, we are now left in the dust. He said so himself. You're just having some freak migraine."</p><p>Sam stands, with Eileen in tow. She helps him up by the arm. "You're wrong. I know he's not like Chuck, and stays away, but he still cares. I know he sent me this vision to help us. All of us," Sam stares at Dean's glare of hopelessness. "I have faith, Dean."</p><p>"How can you be so sure? How can you be so positive that this is from Jack and he's trying to help us? Doesn't make a lot of sense that out of all the times I've asked for his help, to save Cas, or help me bring him back, he's now warning you of an ordinary hunt?" Dean says frustrated. </p><p>"Because in this hunt you die, Dean," Sam blurts out. Dean stays quiet. "You die and I have to go on without you. You leave me and I have to live a life without my brother."</p><p>Dean's gaze falls to the floor. He's quiet for a moment, processing this information. "You live a happy life?" He barely says. </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"After I die, do you go on having the whole white picket fence, apple pie life with the 2.5 kids?" Dean clarifies, calmly. </p><p>Sam searches Dean's face for any kind of sign of self actualization or will to live. "Why does it matter? I can still strive for that with you alive. We both can," he adds.</p><p>Dean smiles, that tired, sad smile. "No, Sammy. You and I both know as long as I'm alive you will always be in this life." He looks at Eileen. "You two will never have a chance at a happy, normal life with me around. Besides, hunting is what I do. There is nothing else for me. Not anymore.”</p><p>"That's not true," Eileen says, with tears in her eyes. She reaches out and places her hand on Dean's cheek, pleading for him to understand how wrong he is. </p><p>"It is. I'm the one that dragged you back into this life, Sam. I'm the only one keeping you here. Let me give you an out."</p><p>"Stop. Okay just stop. We are not going on this hunt. If you want to be suicidal, fine, but I'm keeping you out of danger. You are always so quick to jump in front of a gun or blade. Do you still care that little about yourself, Dean?" Sam searches his brother's eyes. "What about that job paperwork on your desk? You must have cared at some point. Wanted to live!" Dean is quiet. Sam sighs. "Cas wouldn't want you to die. He died to save you, remember? So, what I am going to do is bring Cas back. Are you going to help me?"</p><p>Dean ponders Sam's offer for a moment. "What about the people that will die, if we don't save them?"</p><p>"I'll call some hunters and give them a heads up on what to look out for when they go there. It'll be taken care of," Sam reassures. </p><p>Dean glances between Eileen and Sam. Fiddling with a loose string on the end of his flannel sleeve, he sighs. On one hand, he'd love to see Castiel again. He'd do anything- to hug him and tell him all the things he didn't get to say. But on the other hand, he's so tired. So very tired. There are no leads. And he's lost all faith in his search to save Castiel. </p><p>"Dean?" Sam starts. </p><p>"Okay. Let's bring Cas home."</p><p><br/>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Price</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is evolving to something bigger than just a fix-it fic....oops. I didn't have anything in this chapter in mind until I starter writing lol but angst/pain is where my heart is content. Then followed with a happy ending. So buckle up :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.</p><p>Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic <b>NECROMANCY RITUALS. </b> He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. <b> <em>Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. </em> </b> Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. <b> <em>Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death.  The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. </em> </b>Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases  in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.</p><p>“I’m going out.”</p><p>Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.</p><p>Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Dean-” Sam starts.</p><p>“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.</p><p>Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. <em> Fuck </em>. </p><p>He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers. </p><p>"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again. </p><p>"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. <em> But he's gone </em>. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt. </p><p>Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. <em> Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? </em> He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it. </p><p>Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. <em> I'm going to leave a fucking message. </em> </p><p>The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.</p><p>On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty. </p><p>Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.</p><p>“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”</p><p>“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands. </p><p>The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”</p><p>“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.</p><p>“Uh, no.”</p><p>Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.</p><p>“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts. </p><p>“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”</p><p>The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”</p><p>Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.</p><p>“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.</p><p>Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really. </p><p>The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.</p><p>“I’m sorry what was that?”</p><p>“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”</p><p>“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.</p><p>“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”</p><p>The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.</p><p>“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”</p><p>“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so <em> broken </em> he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. <em> He’s right.  </em></p><p>“Take me,” Dean steps forward.</p><p>The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”</p><p>Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”</p><p>With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. <em> None of it is real. </em>But now Chuck is gone, so this is real. </p><p>Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. <em> Music to my ears. </em> Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. <em> Of course. </em>Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room. </p><p>“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly. </p><p>“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”</p><p>“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.</p><p>“Our strongest whiskey.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”</p><p>A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.</p><p>Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.</p><p>Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”</p><p>She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.</p><p>Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.</p><p>“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”</p><p>“Lucky lad?” She implies.</p><p>Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”</p><p>“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.</p><p>“Hm,” he replies. <em>I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. </em>The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song. </p><p>“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.</p><p>Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees. </p><p>Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle. </p><p>“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”</p><p>The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.</p><p>Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.</p><p>Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head. </p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”</p><p>“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”</p><p>She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.</p><p>“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”</p><p>“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”</p><p>This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”</p><p>“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.</p><p>Dean flicks the napkin against his finger, digesting the information. <em> How the fuck could a cop not be interested in a drug bust? What the fuck is she talking about? Is she high right now? Something seems off. </em>After a moment, he breathes in and waves goodbye.</p><p>The driver’s door closes with a loud groan. This time Dean pays it no mind. He is too preoccupied, thinking of the address in his hand. Dean sits in his cold car for several moments, weighing whether he should investigate the house, go get Sam, or see what Riley is talking about. <em> No point in driving all the way back to the bunker to get Sam when I have no idea if this is even a thing. I can just stake out the area and see what’s what. </em>Dean swerves out of the parking lot onto the asphalt. The moon hangs high in the night sky; it’s a small crescent, a few small grey clouds shielding it. </p><p>The address is farther out than Dean expected. <em> Good thing I didn’t waste the gas to get Sam. </em> A winding road takes him through a sea of everwood trees. It’s a scene straight from a teen horror movie. The road widens to a cul-de-sac. A dead tree is planted in the middle surrounded by dying brush. This is the correct address but no buildings. No houses. It's an open field of trees. Dean parks his car to the side. A few skimpy cars are scattered around, and some people are gathered around by the dead tree.  They appear dead, or passed out. <em> What is this place? It’s an open field basically with people getting high? </em></p><p>Then quick movement to Dean’s right alerts him. It’s a dark figure, humanistic. It is jogging toward the area with people passed out, and suddenly disappears. <em> The fuck? Wait, I’ve seen this before. It’s like a cloaking spell. </em> Riley’s story is beginning to make more sense, but still so many unanswered questions. Dean gets out of the Impala, eyes on the open field, straight ahead. He glances around and goes to the trunk for his pistol. As he closes the hood, someone bumps into him.</p><p>“Hey!” Dean says.</p><p>The girl turns around, looking straight through him. Her hair is completely disheveled, pupils blown, and her clothes are wrinkled. “Sorry, mister. I didn’t see you. I’m seeing a lot, actually, but I didn’t see you,” she says with a thick southern accent, giggling. </p><p>Dean takes in her appearance. <em> She is high on something. </em> "What is this place?”</p><p>The young girl plays with a strand of her greasy hair, and looks to her right. Dean snaps his fingers in front of her. “Hey!”</p><p>“This place is magical! Can’t you see all the rainbow birds, how bright the sun is, and my brother is standing next to me," she cheers. </p><p>Dean glances to both her left and right. Both spots are empty. “No one else is here.”</p><p>“Oh, silly! He’s here you just can’t see him with your regular eyes! You need your second pair of eyes,” she says with wonder.</p><p>“Second pair of eyes?” Dean questions, slowly.</p><p>The strange girl ferociously nods her head up and down. “That’s what Lucian calls them.” She twirls around, watching her crinkled dress swish from side to side.</p><p>“How do I meet this Lucian?” He asks, glancing above her, checking his surroundings. She begins to giggle as she twirls faster. “Hey! Come on, Lucian. How do I meet the guy?” He repeats.</p><p>Still giggling, the girl looks toward Dean. Her eyes are black from the enlarged pupils. Dean wouldn’t even know the color of her iris’. “You don’t meet him, silly. Not with that anyway.” She points to his hand.</p><p>Dean glances at his gun, and feels the heaviness of it. The cold of the metal against his fingers. He feels safer with it in his grip. “I’m not getting rid of my gun,” he replies.</p><p>“Okay! Guess you won’t meet Lucian then. Come on, Luke,” she calls to her invisible brother and begins skipping away.</p><p>Dean goes to call after her but stops. Every instinct tells him to go get Sam. Come back with help. But he has to know what is going on here. <em> How is she seeing invisible people? She's alone. Am I crazy? </em>Dean has an internal war within himself on whether he should pack it up and go or replace his weapon and follow the strange girl. </p><p>“Dammit,” he whispers to himself.</p><p>The hood to the trunk closes once again with Dean’s pistol tucked inside and Dean looks up. The scenery has changed. He is now standing in the middle of a bright lit foyer, a small table in front of him with a bouquet of dead flowers, a staircase leading upstairs to darkness, and three rooms surrounding him. One to his left is a living room adorned with antique furniture and a small fireplace against the wall. One to his right is unknown, the double, wooden doors are closed - possibly an office. The room straight ahead is the kitchen. Dean observes the fridge and island cabinet. The house is quiet aside from the noises coming from the room to his right. It sounds as if someone is dying or crying. </p><p>He begins to walk toward the staircase when the closed wooden doors open. A couple, man and woman, hold onto one another as they exit the front door. Dean turns to face the room and his gaze falls upon a dark headed man with classy fashion. His attire runs similar to something Crowley would wear, Dean thinks. The only difference is his hair falls short of his shoulders.</p><p>“Dean Winchester, welcome.” The man leans against a tall, cushioned red chair. He gestures ever-so gingerly with his fingers, coaxing Dean inside. </p><p>He slowly steps in glancing around the room. Crystals, skulls, unfinished hex bags, and books align the book shelf. There is a plush velvet couch against the wall to Dean's right. A large human skull sits upon Lucian's desk, the top is cracked and exposed, creating a bowl. Smaller bones reside inside. Dean can smell incense, or sage, or some witchcraft bullshit.</p><p>“So that, that whole thing outside, it was just-”</p><p>“A mirage, yes. Don’t assume I’m some type of deceiver, Dean. I need all my clients to be willing. I offer a one in a lifetime experience. I take consent seriously. Also, I’m against violence,” Lucian says pouting his bottom lip.</p><p>“So,” Dean starts.</p><p>“So,” Lucian stands up and comes around the desk. “The bottom-line is you want to be here. You chose to drive the forty-five minutes. You chose to put your gun back. You chose to step inside my office. It’s all been your choice,” he says with one final step toward Dean. They are less than two feet away.</p><p>Dean clears his throat. “Okay. Alright. I know this is all witchcraft bullshit. So what is this, huh? You some hocus pocus Pablo Escobar? People get high on your spells and you get what? Money?”</p><p>“Something like that. I do offer other services as well.” Dean gives him a strange look. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean. I mean magic. I provide services other than the intoxication of magic.”</p><p>Dean walks toward the bookshelf. A word on one of the book’s spines stands out to him from the others. He reads the full title as he steps closer, <b> <em>THE ART OF NECROMANCY</em> </b>. That’s the same title of the article he was reading hours ago.</p><p>Dean almost reaches for the book. “Something catch your eye, Dean?”</p><p>He clears his throat and steps back. “What other kind of <em> services </em> do you provide?” He changes the subject.</p><p>Lucian smiles and eyes the book Dean is gazing at. “I help people forget ex-lovers, get promotions, get pregnant, some even ask to be forgotten. That one is certainly interesting.”</p><p>“And what high price do these poor bastards have to pay you?”</p><p>“I’m a simple man, a simple warlock. I take whatever they can give. Money, personal precious belongings, <em> sex, </em>but my highest price is their soul. Or at least a part of it." Lucian removes the Necromancy book from the shelf for emphasis. "Necromancy is a unique subject. Most wouldn't dare to even consider it. You must be desperate." Dean swallows. "If you’re wanting me to perform some type of necromancy ritual, the price will be high.”</p><p>Dean stares at Lucian. The air grows thick as silence clouds the room. Lucian is smirking at Dean. “I’m not selling my soul to you.”</p><p>“Not necessarily a sale. I consider it more of a transaction.” Lucian watches as Dean steps away from him slowly.</p><p>“What’s the difference?” Dean asks, eyeing the necromancy book as Lucian flips it over and over. His throat feels dry. His palms are tingling and it’s not alcohol this time. <em> What the hell am I doing here? </em></p><p>Lucian leans against his desk, holding onto the side. His shoulders slightly raise from the movement. <em> He looks like an arrogant prick. </em>“The difference is you get to keep the remainder of your soul. I take a part of it. You won’t be condemned downstairs, as far as I know at least.” He flashes his pearly, white teeth. His canines are wickedly pointed.</p><p><em> Don’t do it, Dean. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Find another way. </em> Dean squeezes his eyes shut, and a lone, hot tear threatens to fall. He wipes a hand down his face, and sniffs. <em> But I’m so close. I bet he can bring Cas back. And I won’t be selling my soul. No. </em>Dean's head is warring with his heart and he can’t take it. The pain is too much. He just wants to see Castiel again.</p><p>“I want to see, Cas,” he finally blurts out. He relaxes his shoulders. Dean doesn't notice he had them raised slightly.</p><p>Lucian nods. “Cas? Is he a friend?”</p><p>Dean glances back and forth, unsure of the answer. <em> Yes. No. Yes. No, he’s more than that. </em>Lucian takes notice of the silence, and how long it takes Dean to answer. “Something like that.”</p><p>“Right," the warlock smirks. He carefully places the book back on the shelf and turns back to Dean. "Well, there are a few things to help you see him again. I can offer to place you under a hallucination spell, but those can be tricky. There's also an herb tea that could possibly lead you to him. Think of it as a vision walk, though, they're based solely on the subconscious and unpredictable."</p><p>Dean licks his lips. His mind is swirling with apprehension, yearning, and disdain. Every fiber of his being knows this is wrong. Every nerve fires off throughout his body, telling him to turn around and leave- go home. And yet, he stays. The house creaks in silence and it makes Dean's stomach turn. The smell of incense lingers in the air. It reminds Dean of moments after a rainstorm. When the atmosphere is still thick with moisture and grass drips with the afterthoughts of the storm. </p><p>His bottom lip shakes in hesitation as he stutters. "I just need to see him. I have to tell him something," he speaks softly. </p><p>Lucian nods. "So, you want to speak to him? Hm, that makes things more interesting. Is this friend of yours on the same existing plane?" Dean eyes him. "So not the veil. Heaven?" Dean doesn't answer. "Hell perhaps?" Dean glances to the side. Guilt rises in his throat.</p><p>"I see. With your friend on another plane of existence, meaning not on Earth, it makes things more difficult. My hallucination spell can possibly break the boundaries, but it may be painful." Lucian looks up and down Dean. "But I'm sure you could handle it. The tea won't allow you to converse with him. You'll only see him. I can also throw together a spell. I will need a few objects from you, though." Dean squints at the warlock. </p><p>"What kind of spell?" </p><p>"Well, with the objects I will be able to conjure your friend. It won't truly be him, but you'll be able to talk to him. Touch him even." Lucian smirks. "I just need a personal object of his, something that maybe belonged to him or is connected to him, and a picture of him. It's quite a simple spell."</p><p><em>I don’t have anything on me like that. I don't think I have anything of Cas'.</em> Dean reaches into his wallet and pulls out a wrinkled picture of Castiel. He's standing against Dean's bedroom door, almost blushing. The memory of Dean wanting all three of them to wear ugly sweaters for Christmas one year begins playing. <em>Castiel doesn't understand the meaning of an "ugly sweater." Dean tosses one to him that has a red and green striped pattern with little fuzz balls all around the torso. Castiel takes one look at it and nods once in understanding. Dean tells Castiel to put it at least up against his chest so Dean can see the sweater on Castiel. He complies. Dean doubles over laughing. The thought of an angel of the Lord in an ugly sweater</em> <em>tickles him. Castiel deadpans and tosses the sweater aside. After a moment, the corners of his mouth lift at the sight of Dean's laughter. Dean takes a breather and straightens out his own ugly sweater. It's solid red with Scooby-Doo on the front, wearing a Santa hat. Dean opens the camera</em> <em>on his phone and snaps the photo of Castiel grinning. He explains he wants to memorialize this awesome moment. </em></p><p>"I have this picture. I don't have any of his belongings though," he says slowly and extends his hand. His gaze never leaves the picture. </p><p>Lucian accepts the photo and closes his eyes. "This should do just fine. I detect enough power in this photo." The warlock collects a wooden bowl, some bones from the human skull Dean notices earlier, a handful of witch hazel, and a small empty jar. Lucian places the picture of Castiel to the side. Dean doesn't recognize the language the warlock mumbles as he tosses the ingredients into the bowl. Mist begins to roll above and out from inside. Lucian picks up a jagged knife from the desk and slices his palm. A few drops of blood fall upon the picture. Dean gives him a puzzled look. </p><p>"My blood is the key ingredient. It helps bind us, so we stay connected during the spell," he clarifies. </p><p>The contents of the bowl mix and form a liquid, swirling inside. Dean leans over and sees a neon blue liquid. Lucian pours it inside the empty jar and hands it to Dean. </p><p>"Drink this."</p><p>It's quite a lot of liquid. More than your average shot of liquor. "All of it?" Dean raises an eyebrow. His head screams at him to stop. </p><p>"At least enough until you feel the effects of the spell begin."</p><p>"Effects?"</p><p>"You'll understand what I mean. Just drink," he demands and tips the jar toward Dean's lips. </p><p>Dean slowly sips down the blue liquid. His head becomes fuzzy, he starts seeing double, and suddenly he feels the warlock grab both sides of his head. All of Dean's senses disappear. He can't feel his body. He's floating. Like in his dream. The ribbon is carrying him again, except he's surrounded by darkness. And he doesn't feel warm. Everything is cold. Dean flutters his eyelids open and is alone. Castiel isn't here. </p><p>Dean moves his lips to speak. His mouth is dry. "Cas!" His voice cracks. "Cas!" Dean looks left to right and is met with darkness everywhere. "Castiel!"</p><p>"Hello, Dean." </p><p>Dean's heart stops. Two words are all he needs to hear. For a moment, Dean forgets to breathe. He turns around and sees Castiel. His Cas. Dean takes a step forward as Castiel's silhouette becomes clearer. He is wearing his regular trench coat, suit and tie. His hair is a bit messy. But something is off with his demeanor. Almost cartoonish. Dean doesn't care though. He swiftly walks the ten feet to Castiel, closing the distance. </p><p>"Cas," he breathes. Not able to reach out or hug him yet. Dean blinks and sees two Castiel's for a moment. He shakes his head to clear his vision. "I have so much I want to say."</p><p>"You don't need to say anything."</p><p>"No, I do. I want to. I never get the chance to tell you how I feel. I've always been too damn scared, or I don't know. But I'm ready now. I shouldn't have let you go like that, Cas. I-"</p><p>"It was my choice, Dean. I did it for you. It's always been you." Dean reaches out for Castiel's hand and his fingers are freezing. Dean looks at Castiel with worry. </p><p>"Why are you so cold?"</p><p>"I'm not. Not right now," Castiel smiles but it's not his smile. His lips spread farther than normal - resembling the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Dean grimaces as his vision doubles and he suddenly is withdrawn from Castiel, backwards toward nothing. </p><p>Dean opens his eyes and the warlock's office comes into focus as his head spins. He's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Lucian is bending over to his right. Dean scrambles up to the best of his ability. Holding himself up with the wall. </p><p>"No, I need to go back! I didn't get to tell him. I hardly said anything! Take me back!" He demands. </p><p>"Sorry, I tried to keep you in there for as long as possible. Conjuring is always exhausting and if you go too far with a spell like this - let's just say you may never come back."</p><p>"It wasn't enough time. I need more. Do it again!" Lucian ignores Dean's demands. "I said, do it again dammit!"</p><p>Lucian straightens his posture. "I told you. I offer one in a lifetime experience. That was it. Conjuring isn't some abracadabra spell."</p><p>Dean's head feels heavy, his vision is spinning, and all he can focus on is seeing Castiel. "Why do I feel like this?" He places a hand on his forehead, smothering the incoming headache. This is worse than a hangover. </p><p>"You're slightly high on magic. I needed your mind open to the spell so I could materialize your friend. It's more difficult, if you're not relaxed. The human mind can create barriers for spells regarding psyche distortion and manipulation. That's why vision walk tea is all hallucinogens." Lucian breathes after his lecture on magic. "Anyway, now as for payment." He trails off. Dean winces, glancing at Lucian. "Memories hold a lot of value- power even. One single memory could take down an entire army, if you know what you're doing."</p><p>Dean squints at the warlock until comprehension falls on his face. "You want my memories?" </p><p>"Just one. One connected to your friend since he was the object of our session. An important one as well." Lucian rubs his hands together with a smug look on his face. </p><p>"No." Dean can hardly stand from the high of the spell. </p><p>"That's my only offer." </p><p>Dean searches his memories, thinking of anything significant he can live without. Nothing sticks out. He can't part with any memory of Castiel, especially when that is all he has left of him. And he can’t fight his way out of here. His gun is back in the trunk of the Impala, and he hardly knows which way is up or down.</p><p>"I just can't," he says, defeated. "All my memories are important."</p><p>"I can take all of them then."</p><p>Dean's eyes widen in terror. "No!" He remembers when he did lose all of his memories. He felt terrified and alone. He doesn't want to feel that way again. </p><p>Lucian approaches Dean and he doesn't register his presence. Not until he feels the warlock placing both hands on his cheeks. Lucian pulls Dean's head up to lock eyes. Dean can't move. He attempts to throw a punch but his arms are frozen. He can't run. Dean doesn't know what to do. <em> Why did I come here? Fuck, I'm such an idiot. </em> Dean begins praying. He doesn't know why but he doesn't know what else to do. <em> Please, please please, Jack I need you to hear me. I'm in trouble. I messed up and I'm about to lose Cas all over again. Please hear me, kid. </em> </p><p>All of his memories with Castiel flip through his mind from beginning to end several times until stopping on their last moment together. Castiel, with tears in his eyes, smiling, telling Dean he loves him. Dean's heart thumps so hard against his chest his ribs hurt. Lucian grins and he knows this is the one. Tears threaten to fall as Dean feels the memory pull away from him and disappear.</p><p>Lucian drops his hands and Dean slumps to the floor. His eyes flick across the room as thoughts swirl his brain. <em> What just happened? I remember Cas. I remember him. </em> But he doesn't remember his last encounter with the angel. It's gone. The last moment he sees is him and Castiel running from Billie, standing in the dungeon about to die. Then telling Sam and Jack, Castiel saved him. That Cas is gone. <em> He's dead. Billie killed him. </em>He eyes Lucian as the warlock rounds the desk and takes a seat in the red chair. </p><p>Dean's head feels like he went ten rounds in the ring and lost. His ears are ringing. "What did you do to me?"</p><p>"Only what you asked, for a price. Good doing business with you, Dean." He waves and the wooden doors open. </p><p>The noise startles Dean out of his shock and he blinks. To his left, a foot away, he eyes the small jar half full of the blue liquid. Dean must have dropped it during the spell and the jar happened to land right side up. Dean swiftly reaches for it and clears his throat before standing. </p><p>"Right. Can I have my picture back?" Dean points to the desk where the contents for the spell remain. Lucian gestures him forward. </p><p>Dean walks forward and picks up the photo of Castiel. The few droplets of the warlock's blood have ruined the picture, but Dean takes it anyway. It's Cas. </p><p>Dean walks through the open field under the moonlight. He notices all the people lying on the ground earlier are gone. All the shady looking cars have disappeared too. He wonders if all of it is an illusion. Dead leaves crunch under his boots as he reaches the Impala. He glances at his watch; it reads 3:12. The leather seat of the car squeaks as Dean sits. He pulls out his cell phone and sees thirty missed calls. <em> Jesus </em>. </p><p>Dean's head is still somewhat fuzzy and heavy. His ears are no longer ringing and his vision is back to normal. <em> This is the craziest high or drunkenness I've ever experienced. </em> Dean grazes his hand over a small lump in his pants pocket and retrieves the small jar. The lid is glass and closed shut with a latch. Dean slightly shakes the liquid and it glows. <em> Hm </em>.</p><p>Dean speed dials Sam's number to check in. Knowing his brother, Sam is probably calling all hospitals, morgues and county jails within a fifty mile radius. </p><p>The line picks up on the first ring. “Dean?” Sam sounds worried. </p><p>"Hey, Sam," he replies, still eyeing the jar. </p><p>"'Hey, Sam?' What the hell, Dean? Where are you? You’ve been gone for like three hours!” Dean can hear the glare his brother is giving him through the phone.</p><p>“It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. Quit worrying so much. You’re going to get grey hair before I do,” Dean puts the jar back in his pocket and turns the ignition to the Impala.</p><p>“Why do you sound so chipper? What did you do?"</p><p>"I'm not- it's nothing. I just needed a drink. A break from research, but I'm on my way home." Sam huffs, tells his brother to be careful and they hang up. </p><p>The Impala's wheels struggle to gain traction against the gravel as Dean spins around back to the main road. Back to the bunker. Dean recalls the warlock's spell and seeing Castiel. The conversation is blurry and he doesn't quite remember what he wanted to say. <em>But I still remember Cas. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really would love to know what you guys think! I'm worried if yall hate me now....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're starting to get into the meat of the story, barely. I don't know how I feel about this chapter. I hope ye enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean is able to sleep without downing two bottles of whiskey. His nightmare of Castiel, disappearing in dark ocean water, is forgotten. Instead, images of each time Dean has lost Castiel circulate through Dean's dreams like a broken film. Until his subconscious struggles with Castiel's final moments. Dean grimaces in his sleep, tossing slightly. Miracle is curled next to Dean at his feet, unbothered. </span>
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  <span>Flashes of Billie banging on the dungeon door, Castiel standing before Dean, and the sigil on the door waning are like static in his dream. Then he's on the floor of the dungeon and Castiel is dead along with Billie. Castiel shields Dean in Billie’s efforts to kill him and in return sacrifices himself, taking her out too. Billie's body flurries away in ash, and Dean is now standing before Castiel's pyre again. Just like before when Lucifer killed him. The scene is almost identical except Dean is alone. A muffled sob escapes Dean as tears pool behind his closed eyes. Suddenly, Dean jolts awake drenched in sweat. He gasps for air and Miracle whines in response. </span>
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  <span>He collects himself, wiping away one tear that slides down his face, and reaches over to pet Miracle. "It's okay, boy."</span>
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  <span>Dean sits up for a moment, confused. His dream feels reconstructed somehow, with memories repeating. He recalls the warlock and seeing Castiel. He can see Cas, hear his voice, the feeling of his fingers against his own, but can't remember anything else.</span>
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  <span>He walks toward the hallway, but stops, taking note of the mess on his desk. Multiple crumpled papers are spread across the wooden top and some lay by the trash can. The clean freak in him has a moment of panic. Dean had been so hungover and preoccupied from last night he didn't even acknowledge the mess. Then, a small jar grabs his attention. The blue liquid glows in the dark of his room. He reaches down and picks it up. The moment he downs the liquid in the warlock's office comes back to him- cold and thick against his throat. </span>
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  <span>He wonders if the contents of the jar brought Castiel to him or the work of the warlock. Or both. Placing the jar down, Dean glances across his desk and sighs. He gathers the papers and tosses them in the trash can, filling almost to the top. The last paper, slightly wrinkled, as if he decided against crushing it, freezes Dean. Only two words appear on the page in a repeated pattern. Similar to how a child would write when instructed for disciplinary actions during detention in school.</span>
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  <em>
    <span>Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too </span>
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  <em>
    <span>Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too </span>
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  <em>
    <span>Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too </span>
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  <em>
    <span>Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too M</span>
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  <span>The writing is rushed and sloppy as the words continue. There is a sense of urgency and yearning within. Dean recognizes the writing as his own and furrows his brow. Curiosity and confusion take over him as he bends down and pulls the papers out of the trash can. He reads through each one. </span>
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  <em>
    <span>Today was a hard day, Cas. I woke up from this horrible nightmare. You were right there and I tried so hard to reach you but...I couldn't save you. I let you down. I always let you down.</span>
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</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My head is killing me from the lack of sleep. I've tried to numb the pain. Beer doesn't do much so I tried tequila. I have had some success in the past with blacking out on it but apparently losing your best friend isn't on the tequila self-medicated list</span>
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  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam and I just got back from a hunt. A ghost. Full-on Annabell, Cas. The doll moved and I almost shit my pants. Nothing completely different about said ghost just the fact that a fucking doll tried to kill me. I may or may not have screamed like a girl. Turns out the doll was being possessed by a little girl, who was murdered by her father in 1956. She was only five years old. Five, Cas. Jesus. At one point, shit was flying everywhere in the house, she became pretty powerful, and a large pointed rod came flying at me. I didn’t flinch. Sam tackled me and claimed he screamed my name, but I didn’t hear anything. It’s like I froze. Sam said I’m showing signs of self-destruction again and thinks he is some type of guidance counselor. </span>
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</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s only been five days since we beat Chuck. I don’t feel any different, Cas. I thought there would be a cataclysmic shift in everything. I don’t know, like, the fucking sky would turn purple or the stars would explode. Maybe I’d grow a few inches and Sam would shrink, but nada. I don’t feel anything. Nothing feels real.</span>
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</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have started looking into how to bring you back. It’s been almost a week since Chuck. Sam has moved on, but I can't sit here, have a beer with my brother, and do nothing. The way we left things, Cas - not saying goodbye, it’s eating away at me. What happened that night, and what you said will forever stay with me. But I can’t stop thinking about how I didn’t say it back. I need you here with me. I need you, Cas. I tell myself your sacrifice can't all be for nothing. That I need to live my life like you would probably want. But I don't want to. I can't. I feel like I'm dying. </span>
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</p><p><span>Dean swallows. His eyes burn as tears pool, threatening to fall at any moment. Every time Castiel left Dean, he did lose himself in multiple different ways. The first time he loses Cas, at the time, Dean feels the loss of a family member. Similar to when Bobby died, it hurt like Hell, but Dean moved on. But now, with Castiel, he feels like he has lost a part of himself. Throughout their relationship, the loss of the angel affects Dean deeper and stronger than before. Sam even comments on the change in Dean's mourning regarding Castiel. </span><em><span>He may be tall, lanky, and dumb but he ain't stupid.</span></em> <em><span>Stupid hair though.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dean hesitates to continue reading, understanding most of these are written under the influence of alcohol. He worries if and when drunk Dean let the emotional gates open. The words scribbled on the paper are messy and almost illegible. A few of them collide together or are so spaced apart it's uncertain what is written. </span>
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  <em>
    <span>I listened to t h is son g and it remi n d e d me of y   o  u  I dont even kn o w the name of so ng but s he sings ab  out  ocea n eyes some dumb pop s o  ng but it played at the corne r st  or e I need ed m  ore beer    Sam do es ntk now I left</span>
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    <span>                   I w is h I c  oul d tel lyo u how blue you r eyes were Cas and howsoft your hair alwa y s looked and how I always w is  hed we s  p ent more time to  g ether re me   mber watching To mbstone withme your h or  rib le cowboy accent too I kno  w you onl y watched tho sem ovie s to be nice I ne   ve r aske d you what you wa  nt ed to do or watch I should have                                                 </span>
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    <span>   That ni g htB illie was goi ng to take me or S am andyou ki lled her. We rode in t he backseat t oge ther I wan  ted to hold you  r hand cas I was ab ou t to die withso much unsai d but I was too chickenshit to even do tha  t and now I canteven write three s  im ple wor ds no one will ever see but me. Im a co w ar d and</span>
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  <span>Dean exhales, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He remembers the car ride, anticipating his death, feeling empty and unfinished. As Castiel sat next to him in the Impala, Dean's hand twitched with longing. That's why, he supposes, Castiel looked at him. His heart ached to express his love for Castiel in that moment or his desire for something more. But in the end, it is always Castiel who declares his feelings while Dean remains afraid and silent - still empty and unfinished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean opens one more </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's been weeks. I know Sam sees me slipping more and more, and he tries to show me there's hope but each day proves that there isn't any. He’s tackling the left side of the library in our research right now. He hasn’t given up yet. This endless path of disappointment isn’t meant for someone like my brother. He deserves to move on and live a life with Eileen. I never wanted to give up on you, Cas but I've tried. There's nothing and I'm tired. The nightmares have gotten worse. I try really hard to avoid them, to not sleep, but more times than not I pass out from exhaustion or hangovers. The alcohol helps keep me afloat but I'm barely hanging on.</span>
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</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Today I found another book based on astral projecting. It described ways on how to access the empty but no living being can cross the barrier. Nothing human anyway. It also didn't mention anything about bringing someone back who calls upon the Empty. It described how to save someone from unwillingly being taken by an entity, or leaving dimensions unwillingly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cas...I thought that book was my chance to Frodo my way through the empty with The One Ring. It was the light at the end of my tunnel, which turned out to be headlights of a fucking semi headed straight for me. I can't save you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean's throat is dry. He tries to swallow past the scratch in his throat but fails and coughs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unwillingly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unwillingly? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean stares at the word, reading it over and over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas died saving me. How is that not unwillingly? He didn't choose to die. He was killed by Billie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Miracle jumps down from the bed and rubs his nose against Dean's arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be back in bed in just a second. Good boy." He scratches the dog behind the ears and picks up all the wrinkled papers, placing them in the top drawer of his desk. He takes notice of all the burner phones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean returns to bed with a sugar cookie from the kitchen that Eileen had baked. He offers a bite to Miracle before the two hop back in bed and cuddle down. Dean can’t stop thinking about his makeshift journal. The emotion dripping from each page, with puzzling statements about Castiel, trouble Dean. He’s become quite friendly with rock bottom, but the words written on paper don’t correlate with his current state of mind. He racks his brain for reasoning and comes up empty handed, for now. Ocean eyes are the last thing Dean thinks about before drifting off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <span>Castiel wonders around in darkness. Gone is the silence from his first visit to the Empty. Now, high pitched tones echo throughout the dark abyss. His ears bleed occasionally from the chronic, repeated noise. Dark water ripples underneath each step, shining despite the lack of light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel has not come across another soul or being during his walks in the Empty. He's alone. Unsure of the day, time, or even year, he feels disconnected. Castiel struggles to balance his thoughts as whispers of uncertainty and deception creep inside. The same whispers from before. He knows the Empty is designed to torture one with all their darkest thoughts of themselves and doubts. He tells himself this time he cannot be fooled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel mindlessly continues searching the Empty for anything, unsure how much time has passed. The whispers have grown into shouts in his head but he tunes it out as much as possible. He drowns out the lies and shouting with Dean. The park bench, the first time he opened up to Dean. How terrified Castiel was to show doubts against his Father and the command of Heaven, but Dean, one human, had his trust - his loyalty. His burger date, the moment Dean asked Castiel to kill him if the Mark of Cain overtook him again. The strip club, the first time he laughs with Dean. The strange warmth he felt radiating in his core when Dean tried so hard to remain loyal to Castiel during his deception to the Winchester's. Now, he knows that warmth is love. He loved Dean then as he does now. Castiel smiles, eyes closed, the shouting is gone and he's happy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean is safe and knows he's loved.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The high pitched echoes slowly increase across the Empty. The intensity of the frequency is migraine-inducing and deafening. Castiel covers his ears in an attempt to subdue the noise but fails and passes out from the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flutter open to Meg or the Empty embodying her. She sits on a throne before him with a smirk. Puzzled at her amusement, Castiel sits up unaffected by the water below him. His head is spinning from the pain. The echoes continue in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Looks like you achieved your true moment of happiness, Castiel," the Empty says. "I'll be honest, for awhile, I thought you duped me. Found some type of loophole in our deal. But I am shockingly surprised."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever you have to say, just get it over with. Your taunts and deceit will no longer work on me." He stands, eyeing the Empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Taunts? Deceit? I have never deceived you, Castiel. In fact," the Empty swiftly walks toward Castiel. "I seem to remember you were the one to taunt me. Bother me. I was asleep. Minding my own business." The Empty grabs Castiel by the jaw and switches into the form of the angel himself. "But you and that half-ling," he says with disgust. "Disrupt my slumber. No one has yet to apologize. Don't you think that's quite rude?" The Empty leans closer before throwing Castiel twenty feet away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel falls to the ground and attempts to eject his angel blade, reverting into battle mode, but it's gone. He slowly rises and is immediately met with a right hook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, I'm not one to usually get my hands dirty, I prefer to be on the sidelines, but after Billie dropped off that nephilim like her very own atomic bomb, the gloves are off now." The Empty punches again and again and again. Castiel attempts to return punches but the Empty dodges and blocks them. One final uppercut sends Castiel to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Empty leans down, face to face with Castiel. "Your boy cracked the walls in here. All dead beings were awoken and angry," he says, clenching his jaw. "Everyone was talking at once and wouldn't leave me alone. I just wanted peace and quiet!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel slowly grins, bloody and beaten. "Looks like we both got what we wanted. You finally have my end of the bargain and you have gone insane." Castiel chuckles half-heartedly. "Seeing an all powerful entity, as yourself, quite possibly lose its mind, is hilarious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Empty's lip twitches as Castiel sees anger flash across the copy of himself. "Seeing me lose my mind isn't what you truly want, Castiel." Then, the Empty takes upon the image of Dean. Castiel's breath hitches in his throat, he never thought he'd see Dean again in any form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Cas." Dean's voice fills his ears, but it's not Dean. Castiel wants to tear the Empty apart. He looks away, unable to hold eye contact. The Empty reaches for Castiel's jaw and pulls his eyes forward so blue will meet green. "You look pretty rough, man. I hope you got the other guy.” The Empty mocks Castiel in his beaten state. “Listen, I have been thinking about our last conversation." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel's eyes squeeze shut. He tries so hard to mute pseudo-Dean's voice. "It was more one-sided since you kinda died. I mean you don't even know if I'm alive or not right now, do you? Do you even care?" His voice sounds so hurt and sincere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do." Got him, the Empty thinks. Castiel immediately regrets responding, feeling extremely weak and stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Empty pats Castiel on the shoulder as the real Dean would. "I know you do, Cas. I know. You always have. That's your weakness. I'm your weakness. But Sam is mine. And you know that. That's why I always choose Sam over you. I will always choose Sam over you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel's heart aches as he swallows past the lump forming in his throat. He just nods in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Empty gently places its hands on Castiel's cheeks and stares into his eyes. "This is why it's going to hurt when I tell you, your love means nothing to me." Castiel's brow furrows yet raises simultaneously. His gaze falls to the ground. The Empty smirks, gesturing in emphasis. "I have Sam and he has me. Him and I are family and will always be family. I was kinda embarrassed to tell Sam how you died. I mean I didn't even mention the love part. Jack wasn't that sad you died, if I'm being honest."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He isn't falling for the lies. Castiel pulls his brow together and slowly looks at the Empty. The Empty's expression falters, taking notice of the change in Castiel’s demeanor. The angel stands, pushing the carbon-copy of Dean back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You almost had me. Preying on my fresh emotions, especially dressed as him. It’s a nice touch, but these last couple of years, I've learned a few things about myself. About Sam, Dean and Jack." The Empty watches him carefully. "We became a family, more than ever. Raising a child changes you. Sam and Dean may be blood but I am still family to them. They are still my family. You don't scare me. You can do whatever you want to me. Torture me, silence me, destroy me,” he pauses. “But you will never take away my love for Dean. For Sam and Jack. Or their love for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Cas.” Pseudo-Dean circles around Castiel, slowly. “You’ve always been innocent, naive, and tried to see the good in people. I always admired that about you.” He says, as if speaking for Dean himself. “But it’s time to grow up.” The Empty faces Castiel, blank stare. “You sacrificed yourself for me, and I didn’t even say thank you. You told me you LOVE me, and I, again, said nothing. Pretty clear message.” He huffs, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel gently shakes his head, blocking out the Empty’s words, but fails. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s pretty obvious, man, this dude is just not that into you.” The Empty states, cutting into Castiel as the words sound exactly like Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>This isn't Dean.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Pseudo-Dean saunters up to Castiel and leans close. “I left you here to rot for an eternity of torture and pain. I’m not even looking for a way to save you.” The Empty runs its hand behind Castiel’s ear, fixing his hair. Castiel shudders slightly in response. “No matter how hard you try to find love, Cas no one will ever reciprocate. Because who could love a fuck up like you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the subdued echoes within the distance, there is silence surrounding Castiel and it’s deafening. He feels as if it might swallow him whole. He knows the Empty is parading as Dean and the real Dean isn’t here, but these are his own darkest thoughts. He buried them a few years ago, but they still remain lingering in the back of his mind. And now, not only are they being used against him, but also spoken by the love of his life. A hot tear escapes behind his squeezed eyelids, and trails down his cheek. The Empty forms back into Meg and eerily smiles. It places its hand on Castiel’s forehead, causing him to slumber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Castiel isn’t asleep or resting in peace. He is reliving every moment he failed Dean, every moment he hurt him - direct or indirectly. All the moments that drove them apart throughout the years, emphasized by the Empty’s speech on repeat, “your love means nothing to me.” “I will always choose Sam over you.” “No matter how hard you try to find love, Cas no one will ever reciprocate. Because who could love a fuck up like you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <span>Dean walks into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee at 6:15 AM. The bunker is quiet and still. If Miracle had not just wrestled with his toy, Dean would have thought he was sleepwalking. As much as Dean loves the bunker, he wishes he could prop open a window or some blinds. The bunker is so musty and dark sometimes a little bit of sunshine could liven up the place. The coffee machine drips its final drop of caffeine and makes a bubbling noise as the heat turns down. Dean takes a fresh cup of coffee back to his room, and settles into his desk chair. Sam and Eileen will sleep for a few more hours at least; this will give him time to figure out what the hell is going on with these notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has analyzed, reread, and discussed with Miracle the contents of his makeshift journal. The emotions are familiar, but the situation revolving around Castiel and the Empty not only leave Dean confused but also worried. He makes several trips to the library, grabbing multiple books, researching and comparing information. He recalls the small tidbit about astral projecting and reaches for a book titled </span>
  <b>THE ASTRAL PLANE AND ITS COMPLICATIONS</b>
  <span>. He scans across the section explaining the exceptions and constraints regarding pulling someone from another dimension. The word 'unwillingly' pops up multiple times. Mirroring his note, but he has no other information. Nothing to prove that Castiel wanted to go to the Empty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would he choose this? How would he choose it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closes the book and sighs in frustration. His coffee has grown cold. Books are piled on the floor. He’s read each and understands how to possibly save Castiel, but the word unwillingly lingers in his mind like a nest of ants, annoying and unwanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unwillingly? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could just talk to Cas,” Dean says to himself, wishful thinking, as he lays his head atop a stack of books. After a moment, the small jar full of blue liquid glows bright, catching Dean’s eye. He looks up, curious. Dean cautiously picks up the jar and clenches his jaw. Maybe his theory about either the liquid, the warlock's magic or both bringing Castiel to form will be put to the test. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trekking back to the library, with the jar in his pocket, Dean searches under their witchcraft section. He finds a spell for conjuring but magic is not his forte and he doesn't want to bring Sam into this. There is a crystal that can bring forth a dead loved one, but it has to be blessed by the demigod, Aphrodite. He shuffles through the pages of almost every book until he finds something promising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The text elaborates on conjuring and describes how to master it, how to manipulate others with and without hurting them, and the dangers of overdoing a conjuring spell. Dean quickly scans, noticing the time on his watch - 8:47 AM. </span>
  <b>Once you have completed the spell, and have entered the subjects mind, manipulation is quite simple. It is important to remember the ingredients to the physical, conducting spell. </b>
  <span>He feels his pulse rise in anxiousness, as he expects Sam to round the corner at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scans down a few lines. </span>
  <b>All witches and warlocks may perform conjuring spells differently. The deepest and most effective way, however, is with a mind altering potion. It's binding and with proper execution the spell may have lasting effects for weeks. </b>
  <span>Dean raises an eyebrow at the last sentence. There's a picture of an example. It looks similar to Dean's. He stares at the page for merely a few seconds but seems like hours. He shuts the book and cleans up his mess, quickly, before Sam and Eileen wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffles into his room. Dean paces back and forth in his little room, contemplating taking a swig of the jar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is my mind altered? Is that why these notes make no sense to me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He breathes in and breathes out. Miracle sits upon the bed, watching him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if this dumbass potion alters more of my mind? I don't even know what it's altered in the first place. I need to know, but what if…</span>
  </em>
  <span> He goes back and forth for five minutes before taking a swig of the potion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inhales sharply, almost dropping the jar in surprise at himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. What the fuck did I just do? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean glances around the room, confirming his surroundings. Everything is the same. His bed, Miracle, his messy desk, his guns, everything. He takes a quick inventory of his life, people he and Sam have saved, his mistakes, his highest and lowest moments and family. Everything seems normal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>News flash genius you won't know if your mind is altered. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean shakes his head at himself. For now, he tells himself, nothing has been altered. A part of him is relieved, but also disappointed. From his readings and comprehension of everything, the way Cas died isn't so clear cut. And he doesn't know why. There's a knock at his door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning," Sam peers in. "Thought I'd check on you." He quickly glances at the desk and notices the stack of books but disregards them. "Did you sleep at all?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Some. I made some coffee around 6."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam bows his head. "Right. Uh, well I'm sure Eileen is making some more and breakfast. If you wanna join?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks to the left, as if following the hallway to the kitchen. "Yea, I'll be right out." Sam lightens and smiles in acceptance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean changes clothes. He still had on last night's outfit. He replaces it with a beige Henley t-shirt and some worn blue jeans. In the kitchen, the smell of coffee is strong but the smell of bacon is immensely overwhelming. The bacon drifts and lingers into the hallway, coaxing Dean inside. He sees Eileen flipping omelets and the bacon drying from the grease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow. Smells amazing. Thank you, Eileen," Dean says as he pours himself a new cup of coffee. He sits at the table, eyes closed. Sam looks at Dean and then Eileen. She glances between the brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome," she responds before placing Dean's omelet on a plate and sliding it across the island toward Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam adds a few pieces of bacon to the plate and places it before his brother. Dean eyes the plate and nods in gratitude. He uncharacteristically eats his bacon without reacting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine, Sam," he says, noticing his brother eyeing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Given the past month, you certifiably are not fine. Are you gonna talk to me about last night? Why you were out so late or what you did?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told you I just went to the bar," annoyance edging to the surface as he sips on his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean, you know, I know that's not true," Sam glares at Dean and he glares back stubbornly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine, Sam. Alright? Just drop it. Jesus. Eat some damn food and quit being such a killjoy, ruining my breakfast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam concedes and makes a note to revisit this conversation but walks over to Eileen. He kisses her atop the head as she hands him his plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  <span>Dean is on his third cup of coffee, listening to the two love birds discuss groceries, some dumb show on Netflix about some serial killer, and Eileen's birthday coming up. He drifts off in thought eventually, thinking of Castiel. He never discussed groceries with the angel. They talked about Netflix but not like Sam and Eileen. Dean won't ever know Castiel's favorite show, favorite moment in a show or his favorite character. He imagines it would be some epic battle warrior, whose mission is to save the entire world, or the most innocent, could do no wrong character. Dean has never celebrated his own birthday since yellow eyes. He never told Cas his birthday. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does Cas even have a birthday?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean!" Eileen shakes his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh?" He blinks himself out of thought and looks at the two in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Damn where the hell were you? We said your name like five times," Sam says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean hesitates, "I was clearly tuning you both out for a reason. What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rolls his eyes. "Eileen was telling me about this hunter, Thomas, that got back in contact with her about our possible lead." Dean stares blankly at him. "About Cas," adds Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean clears his throat. "Right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam scoots closer up toward Dean even though he can hear just fine and the table is between them. "We didn't want to tell you anything, raise any kind of hope, until we knew it was something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He called Sam last night while you were out. We made sure he wasn't bullshitting us and verified the artifact. I have a good feeling about it." Eileen smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean remains silent. "Eileen found a book full of powerful, mystical, mythical artifacts, emblems, relics and scripture. It was hidden actually. A previous Men of Letters, or someone, must have known what the book is capable of and disguised it as another Legacy Journal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I almost skipped over it, but the paper cover was ripped and suspicious. The hardcover underneath didn't match the outside. Something told me to open the book. Then I found the artifact inside and showed Sam," she says, excited and hopeful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiles adoringly at her. "I did some digging and put out my own APB. It checks out, Dean. We are planning to meet Thomas in a few hours in South Dakota. He says he has the artifact but we have to meet him. Something about him not wanting to drive with it, makes him uncomfortable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're leaving in ten minutes, so we can make good timing. Do you want to come with?" Eileen asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean is too overloaded with information to drive right now. "No, that's okay. You crazy kids go on a road trip. I'll hold down the fort."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure?" Eileen asks, face full of worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Absolutely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sees the two off, telling them to be careful without hardly saying anything. The bunker door creaks shut with rust and Dean is alone. He returns to the kitchen to replenish his coffee when footsteps shuffle behind him. Tensing, frozen for a split second, Dean spins around to an empty space. Blinking a few times, attempting to regain focus, he marches toward his coffee and refills the cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two small footsteps sound next to Dean as he walks toward the table. "Show yourself!" He demands, halting in his tracks. His vision is doubling and his head feels like iron metal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, pushing his hand against his head, willing it to stop spinning. "Dean," a voice sounds before him, deep with gravel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cas?" He says before looking up. He composes himself, vision normalizing and his head no longer pounding. "Is it really you this time?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel appears as the angel Dean grew to call family. Tan trench coat, suit and tie all wrinkled, steely blue eyes always looking upon humanity with wonder, and that relaxed slumped posture he carries himself in around Dean. Nothing resembling a Cheshire Cat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's me," he replies, nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walks forward, reaching to pull Castiel into a hug but passes through him. Confused, he stares at his hands and looks back. "What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm afraid we can only see each other. No physical contact."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But why?" Castiel doesn't respond. "Cas," he sighs, exasperated, "it's so good to see you, man. That warlock's spell gave you a makeover, you didn't look right." Dean glances across Castiel's appearance, smiling. "I've felt off since I walked away from that place. Something is going on with my head. I'm finding myself questioning what's real."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel nods. "I understand. I'm sorry you're going through a difficult time, Dean. I wish I could help. I want you to know though, that I am me, but not the real Castiel. I have all of your shared memories, but this," he gestures, "is a product of magic. A projection of your imagination or wants. Anything you want or wish to hear."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The potion worked," he whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks to Castiel and relaxes. He breathes, wanting to tell Cas how lost he is without him. "Cas, I-I don't even know where to start. Everything is so fucked and I can't understand anything. I can't figure out why it's so hard to bring you back. I-I can't clearly remember you dying and every time I try I get this mind splitting headache." He breathes, pausing, head slightly spinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Perhaps, I can help to relieve your pain. What troubles you the most?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What troubles me most?" He laughs, humorless. "That's a weighted question. How about I list things that help me sleep at night. That's a shorter list."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean, quit deflecting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, you wanna know what is messing me up the most?" Dean walks closer to Castiel. They are less than two feet apart. "One moment I vaguely remember you dying, icing Billie in the process, and saving me. I remember burning your body, again," he emphasizes. "Then I find these papers and I," he trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel shuffles closer to Dean. "And what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And I have a feeling I fucked up somehow! This hollowness inside me," he pauses. Dean licks his lips. "Cas, I don't know what to do. Sam and Eileen are chasing a lead to possibly bring you back but everything else says there ain't a snowball's chance! But I don't know!" He cries, eyes pleading for answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean," he says, affected by Dean's state. "You should trust your family. They know what they're doing. And you can't let your doubts dictate how you live. You once said we always have a choice, so make a choice.  Defy destiny and all that." Castiel tilts his head, grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gesture tugs at Dean's heart. The familiarity kills him. "God, I miss you. Your dorky outfit, and quirks. Cas, what happened that night?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"With Billie," Dean clarifies. "My head is hazy with the details."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told you. I share any memories of yours regarding the real Castiel, nothing more. I'm sorry, Dean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right." He hangs his head, and nods. He walks to the fridge and grabs two beers. Even though it's only 11 in the morning, beer sounds more comforting than coffee right now. He sits at the table and places the second bottle across from him, insinuating for Castiel to sit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This illusion of Castiel is unable to offer any details, so Dean drops the subject. Instead, he settles for this moment with the angel. "In that case," he trails off, taking a swig of the beer and gestures for Castiel to join. "Sit with me?" He quietly asks. The angel concedes and sits down. The two stare at each other for quite a while and for a moment Dean loses himself, believing this is real. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cas is alive and home. He catches himself reaching for Castiel’s hand on the table, but stops. All his hurt and pain disappearing as he feels himself drown in cerulean blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean picks at the bottle label. "You remember the first time we met?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. You stabbed me," Castiel states plainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean laughs. "I did do that." He takes a long swig of his beer. "The whole time, standing in that barn, I thought you were some uber demon about to kill me and Bobby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uber angel wasn't good enough?" Castiel jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up," Dean teases. Their faces are both soft - small eye crinkles with happiness. Dean's eyes flick down to Castiel's lips. He wets his own with want but returns his gaze to the angel's. "There were a couple of times you pissed me off so bad I wanted to stab you again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You came close a few times." Castiel leans forward to catch Dean's gaze. "We both did," he adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea. I never meant any of that shit." A somber moment passes between the two. "Why didn't you ever change your threads? The only time I saw you in different clothes was when you were human."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Efficiency. No need to wash them when I have my grace. I don't think I have much fashion sense anyway. It was just much more productive and practical."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you like being human?" Dean recalls Castiel struggling with understanding interpersonal communication, working a 9-5, and being terrified as a human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Truthfully, the whole experience was very uncomfortable and I remember dying. Life is complicated and difficult as a human." Dean nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I regret how we treated you, how I treated you, when you fell. It’s just a tick on the long list of my fuck ups that keeps me awake at night,” Dean huffs in shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s eyes are sorrowful. “You did what you had to for Sam, to protect him. You thought you were doing the right thing. I understand that more than anyone. I forgive you, Dean.” He pauses. “You know, I have a long list of regrets and mistakes too. I think we make a perfect pair, in that regard.” He smiles softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean returns the gesture and an immense sense of longing overtakes him. Then, Castiel begins to blur in and out of focus. "Dean, are you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinks, attempting to clear his vision. Castiel speaks again but no sound comes out. "Cas?" Suddenly, the angel fades away. The potion's effects have slowly worn off, and Dean is alone. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! I really appreciate everyone that has so far. Constructive criticism and ideas are welcomed as this supposed to be a play on the finale! Thanks for the love &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning for my attempt at a sensual scene lmao it's not heavy at all</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"So you're saying that this is how we break Cas out of angel hell." Dean's face is screwed as he analyzes the object. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's the next day and the couple have returned from their trip. Ever since he drank more of the potion, Dean has felt on edge. His fingers tingle intermittently and every other hour he develops severe body aches, especially when he thinks about Castiel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"With this thing?" He adds, unconvinced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea. We're calling it Plan Sophie (SOAFE)," Sam says. Dean raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Save Our Angel From the Empty. Eileen thought it sounded better than sock. Save Our Cas." Sam offers and Dean huffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean places the quarter sized copper piece of metal on the table. It is circular and flat aside from the diamond shape protruding from one side. There are markings along the edge, smudged from age. Dean recognizes the language as Enochian. He also senses immense power when touching the coin. It's similar to the darkness he felt when holding The First Blade - ancient and indestructible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How exactly is this supposed to bring him back? We throw it in a wishing well, and hope it does some mojo?" He says sarcastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rolls his eyes. "No," he opens the book Eileen found and places it in front of Dean. "this paragraph here describes a spell that will activate its power. Right now it's dormant. That hunter, Thomas, he's a paranoid bastard, but he knew this thing has power. It’s all a matter of bringing it to the surface.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stares at the book, curious. The pages are crinkled, yellow and thick. He runs his fingers over the words as he reads them carefully. “Sam, it says we need angel grace. Last time I checked, we seem to be running short in that department.” He shuts the book forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. We’re still working on that.” Eileen and Sam make eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There aren’t any angels left! And if there are, none of them are going to help us. After everything, Cas doesn’t have a perfect track record up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas had to have friends-” Sam starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea, us. He had us, and look what that got him.” Dean exhales frustrated. “It’s another goose chase.” He starts toward the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean-” Eileen says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean walks into his room, Miracle in tow. He's pissed off at Sam for bringing up the coin and the spell. He's pissed off at Jack for ignoring them. A part of him is pissed off at himself, and he's not sure why. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ain't no way we can get angel grace. No one would help us. Not for this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rakes his hands through his hair and exhales. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Jack, we found something. It's hardly a long shot, but Sam and Eileen think it could help. I think you could just snap your tiny ass fingers and bring Cas back but you've left us hanging dry. What is the answer here? Huh? Is this how I save Cas? Jack? Please, I can't," his breath hitches in his throat and he licks lips, gathering himself. "I need to save him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long moment of silence passes and no response. Jack doesn't appear. No signs from the beyond. Dean's brow furrows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Screw you, Jack.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He aggressively puts his boots on and jacket. Storming toward the bunker door he leaves, disregarding Sam's objections. His foot lays heavily on the accelerator as he drives absently on the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eileen turns to Sam with worry. "He needs to decompress. I have to admit, there isn't a lot to go on here. We haven't been successful in our research, Sam and he is taking everything pretty hard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea. I know. I'm just worried." He pauses, turning the artifact in his hand. "I found some notes in his room. I didn't want to pry because they were pretty personal but they were about Cas."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did they say?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not much. But he's clearly dealing with something. He hasn't really told me much about how Cas died and something happened that night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen looks away, thinking. "Should we," she trails off, reconsidering invading Dean's privacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. I can't do that to him. When he's ready to talk, we'll listen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're right. I just want to help him. I hate seeing him upset." She says signing, her eyes sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too." He places his arm around her. "Right now, we can help him by figuring out how to gather all the ingredients and completing the spell. Save Cas." He kisses the top of Eileen's head, pulling her close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean's mind wanders as he considers other options and possibilities to bring his best friend home. This coin is the only lead they've had in weeks, and it isn't even a solid one. He feels like screaming. Why is this time different than all of the countless times we've all died and come back? Dean thinks to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Jack, I know you said you aren't intervening anymore. That you don't want to be like my brother but look at Dean," Amara says sorrowfully. Her and Jack appear behind Dean in the Impala, invisible to him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I know. But Chuck caused them even worse suffering. I can't do that to them. I love them. They're my family. And not to sound rude, but why do you care about Dean's pain? He betrayed you?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I suppose when Chuck and I were connected his rage and hatred became a part of me. But now, I feel your love for Dean, for Sam, and Castiel. It's a warmth I once yearned for, and now have." She smiles. "You can't continue to ignore Dean's pleas."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack watches Dean as he wipes away a lone tear. "He </span>
  </em>
  <span>is </span>
  <em>
    <span>in a great deal of pain. And seems to be more self-destructive than usual. But Dean is strong. The pain will pass and he will get through it."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Amara looks at Jack puzzled. "And Castiel? What about him?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack looks down at his lap with regret. He remains silent and fades out of the car. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean feels a presence behind him and glances back. It's empty. He sighs, the drop of hope draining from him, and makes a U-turn toward the bunker. His mind is still swimming with anger and uncertainty but he needs to go back before he regrets doing something stupid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Walking down the steps, Dean eyes Sam with his head in a pile of books. "So? Jack squat or did you find anything?" He sits at the table and puts his feet up, crossing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, still working on it. It's promising, more promising than anything we have come across. Just give me some time, Dean. We'll get him back," he says sincerely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need a break."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, Eileen and I can continue to research for right now. Just get some rest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I need a break from this," he gestures to the books. "I can't do this anymore, Sam. The coin has less of a chance bringing Cas back, than Jack had surviving the Titanic. There's nothing else. I appreciate you and Eileen trying, I really do, but I can't. My head is so messed up." Dean stands. "I just can't." He takes one last look at the books then Sam before walking toward the hallway. Sam watches his brother shuffle away with slumped shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean's hand hovers over Castiel's bedroom doorknob. A part of him doesn't want to go inside and see the vacancy. The other part of him needs to. He opens the door and the room is spotless. The bed is perfectly made, not a wrinkle in site, and the desk chair is precisely aligned with the desk. Dean knew the angel didn't sleep or need a closet for extra clothes, but giving Castiel this room was his way of telling the angel to stay. That he wants him here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking into the mattress, Dean notices how unoccupied the room appears. No personal belongings. Castiel didn't have any, not really. Then, Dean sees the mixtape, sitting on the bedside table. He reaches across and picks it up. He remembers giving this to Castiel and the awkward exchange between the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Castiel is loading up a rusty truck with supplies. Dean pays them no mind as he is nervous as shit. His palms are sweating and his mouth is dry. Clutching the tape a little too tightly, Dean nears Castiel. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He clears his throat. "Hey, uh, I know how driving can get boring. And with these old cars radio doesn't always, um, always have a signal so I decided to kind of, well I wanted," he licks his lips, anxious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Castiel is squinting at him confused and from the direct sunlight. "What is it, Dean?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Jesus," he mutters. "Here." He holds out the tape to Castiel. The angel studies it. "I made it. It's a mixtape. It’s some of my favorite songs from my favorite band. Here," he gestures with the tape, encouraging Castiel to accept the gift. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Thank you," he holds it tightly between both hands. His voice is soft and genuine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean nods, already embarrassed, and pats Castiel on the shoulder once.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The curvatures of the cassette run against Dean's finger as he glides it across, reminiscing its origin. Dean never asked Castiel how he felt about the songs, or which one he liked the most. Dean sighs and returns the tape to its spot on the table. He takes one more glance around the empty room before turning off the light and closing the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone sounds and buzzes from his pocket, almost startling Dean. The caller ID reads Jody Mills. The corner of Dean's lips slightly turn in surprise. He hasn't heard from Jody in a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jody?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean?" Jody's voice is peppy and warm through the speaker. "I hope this isn't a bad time?" </span>
  <em>
    <span>When would it ever be a good time?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"No. No it's fine. What’s up, Jody?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh just a few murders. The usual. I thought it was a werewolf at first but now I'm not so sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why's that?" Dean creases his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, Claire and I just got back from the morgue and the last two victims," she pauses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Both of them were skinned alive, and died from blood loss."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about the first?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Multiple lacerations and his heart was missing. Signs of a werewolf, right?" She asks, rhetorically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, how are the vics connected?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Two are married. The third is the divorce attorney." Claire's voice carries through the phone. Dean is on speaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean ponders with the information given. His eyes flicking back and forth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could really use the distraction.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Where are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Dean's boots reverberate into the war room. Sam hears him before he sees Dean. He has a duffle bag with him, full of extra clothes and supplies. "I'm headed to Sioux Falls. Jody called." Dean is swiftly walking toward the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey!" Sam scrambles to jump out of his chair. "Whoa, wait, Dean! Is everything alright?" He rushes to the bottom of the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks down at his brother. "She's fine. Her and Claire need help. I can't be here right now, Sam. I'm losing it. So I'm going to do what I do best- save people. Since I sure as hell can't do that here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam's face falls. "Okay, be," Sam starts and the bunker door closes behind his brother. "Careful." Silence dances around Sam. Then, he turns toward Eileen. "He's pretty messed up. After what he said, I think talking with Jody could do him some good." He sits back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was the right thing to do, calling her." Eileen says, signing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea. I’ve seen him like this before. When our dad died, he was out of control. Except it’s different this time - worse. And I don’t know how to give him hope.” Sam frowns, he looks away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen grabs Sam’s hand, her cold skin contrasts his warmth. “Sometimes you can’t give people hope, if they don’t want it.” Sam gives her a look. “Like how addicts don’t want help unless they’re ready,” she offers. “He’s been through the five stages of grief multiple times. Rinse and repeat. He’s still processing. For now, we’ll carry the hope for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Sam smiles, he gazes into her chocolate warm eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here,” he signs. Eileen places her hand on Sam's thigh, her eyes flicking down to his lips and back up to hazel eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I am,” she signs with a sensual look, her eyebrow raised. Realization sits in and Sam reads Eileen’s expression before wrapping his hands around her face, connecting their lips. She reaches forward, grabbing onto the back of the chair and settling on Sam's lap. His hands travel down her back and up her shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, wait," Eileen breaks away, breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything okay?" Sam signs, eyebrows raised with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A mischievous smile forms on her face. "I've never done it on a table before," she says quietly, as if someone would hear them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam quirks an eyebrow, already feeling himself getting hard and twirls Eileen around to the opposite table. They push all the lamps off, giggling. Sam takes off Eileen’s shirt, revealing a lacy bra, and she rips off Sam’s flannel. They’re both smiling, before he pulls Eileen close, crashing their lips together. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean makes it to Sioux Falls in under 6 hours. It's around 5 in the morning, his eyes hurt from lack of sleep, and all he can think about is a breakfast joint with some coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls Jody to meet him at the local diner for an early breakfast. The interior screams late 1950's with the small counter bar and fake leather upholstery. The white and red theme is outdated as well. The older waitress, named Marie, sweetly greets him. Dean sits himself close to the door. The diner is empty save for one other patron at the bar. An older gentleman, drinking coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What will you be having, hun?" The waitress smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Coffee. Black." He says, eyes closed, wishing for a goodnight sleep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I ever have those.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The bell above the door jingles as someone enters. Dean feels their presence approach the table. He slowly opens his eyes, dreading the bright light of the diner. Not only is Jody here but also Claire. Makes sense since they're both on the case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Heya, Dean," Jody says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey,” he replies, his voice is rough from dehydration. The waitress comes by with his coffee and grabs the girl's drink order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are you?" She asks, hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deadpans. "Peachy. Now, what all do you have on the case?" Straight to business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire opens up a Manila folder with all the case information they have gathered. The killings, the victims, witness statements, and abnormal findings. Dean pulls it across to further assess everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is pretty thorough. Nice work," he says, scanning some crime scene photos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," Claire says. Dean looks at her shocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea, Claire has been taking care of more cases on her own. Her and Kaia hunt together sometimes but-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I prefer to work alone. I don't like putting people I care about in danger," Claire interrupts. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I get that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Nothing wrong with being a lone wolf." Jody kicks Dean under the table, and gives him an "I will kill you" look. Dean clears his throat. "Not, of course, until you're in trouble and need help. I've been there." He pauses for a moment before speaking in a more serious tone. "Trust me, when you have someone that knows about this life and is willing to sacrifice everything for it. For you. Don't let it go. You hold on to it and protect it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire scrunches her nose. "Are we still talking about Kaia?" Dean's lip quivers in an attempt to muster up an answer but fails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress saves Dean and delivers the ladies drinks. "Do y'all know what you want?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We need a few more minutes," Jody says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take your time," Marie responds, her voice sweet like honey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire opens the menu and begins to decide her food of choice. "So, what do you make of the case?" Jody nods toward the folder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My first guess would be witches. But I don't know the connection. Have you found any hex bags?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Claire replies without looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, let's hit the crime scene next and go from there. Talk to any other witnesses or people who knew the victims."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam, slightly disheveled, his baby blue undershirt on inside out, carries a cup of fresh coffee to Eileen. She is in a similar state, wearing Sam's flannel - one button off sequence. Her own shirt, forgotten on the floor. The lamps are haphazardly returned to their place on the opposite library table. The couple sit across from each other, with more accompanying books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." Eileen smiles. She sips the coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We've been going at this for hours. If I look at one more page, I'm going to fall asleep," Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. Eileen looks at him, with tender eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can rest for a bit. I'll continue and then we can trade shifts, so we can get some rest," she offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks at her almost contemplating it. "No, no I'm good. Just let me finish this," he draws the coffee to his lips and slowly swallows, praying the caffeine energizes him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen nods and grabs the artifact book once more, rereading it front to back, checking each word carefully, making sure she hasn't missed anything. Sam looks through the online archives about alternatives for angel grace. Hours pass in their search, Sam leaves to pick up the pizza he orders. Eileen dozes off in his absence. The creak of the bunker door echoes off the walls as Sam descends the stairs. He drops the pizza box before Eileen, startling her awake from the vibrations in the table. She jolts up and Sam chuckles, snatching a slice of pepperoni then offering the box to Eileen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh as Sam tells her about imaginary friends and the case he and Dean worked on involving their murders. He leaves out the details about Sully. Sam recalls the moment the woman wiped her face and the imaginary friend's blood smeared all over, unbeknownst to her. Eileen laughs, breathlessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, you're just making this up." She finally regains composure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I swear!" Sam laughs. A part of him feels guilty for being happy, especially right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's hilarious," she says, closing the finished pizza box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen eyes him and sees his guilt. "Okay, break over. Back to work." She wipes her hands on her jeans and returns to the book. She glances at Sam. He's still staring at a spot on the table. "We got this, Sam," she says reassuringly. He nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes begin scanning the pages and a small excerpt in the corner of the page catches her attention. She never noticed it before. It directs the reader to another book volume for further information regarding the Enochian artifact. "Sam," she says urgently. "There is a second book!” She points to the small paragraph. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The couple lock eyes before scouring the entirety of the library once more for the sister book. The wooden floor is littered with books and after hours of searching, Sam yells out, victorious. Eileen rushes to his side as he shuffles through the pages until they see the artifact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Eileen says, and Sam turns back a page. “Look, it says the spell </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> require an angel's essence but if that is not attainable, you can use the blood of a reaper." Eileen points to the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam reads it over and over. "I can't believe this. This is good news!" He says excitedly. "But the only problem is to see a reaper you have to be dead, or on the verge of death."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Billie was a reaper before she was Death,” Eileen offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea, but she made herself corporeal. She allowed us to see her. Most reapers are invisible to the living. We could trap one. Dean and I have done it before."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen looks at him incredulously. "How?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, a friend helped."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house of the deceased married couple is quiet, aside from the wooden floors creaking under their various footsteps. Dean walks into the living room, the glass table is shattered, the armchair is overturned and crimson paints the white-gold pattern rug. A droplet trail of blood leads him through the hallway to the kitchen. Traces of a handprint drags along the wall. They were trying to get away from something. The trail ends at a pool of blood, dried on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire rips open the couch cushions, as suggested by Dean, searching for hex bags. He tears open mattresses and picks through dresser drawers. They meet at the bottom of the staircase, both shaking their heads. The two head outside to search the perimeter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, how's Castiel? I haven't heard from him in awhile."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean clenches his jaw at the mention of his name. He can't bring himself to tell Claire the truth. "Yea, he's just busy with angel stuff,” he says, avoiding her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire gives him a look, crossing her arms. "Bullshit. I can tell you're lying." She stops walking. Dean turns around to face her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows hard against the thick lump in his throat. "I'm not. He's fine. C'mon." He gestures for her to follow. She rolls her eyes and continues with the job. They don't find anything around the house. Jody approaches them, coming from the neighbors house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The neighbors came clean after some...persuading. They saw the divorce attorney's wife on scene that night." Dean raises his eyebrows in question. "Apparently the wife next door is close with the wife of the divorce attorney. He was cheating on her, with his clients."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay that's fucked up," Claire grimaces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, there's our connection. Let's check it out,” Dean responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire walks along the isle at the gas station, grabbing some snacks for her and Dean. It has been several hours since they ate breakfast and Dean is starving. He also needs something with caffeine. Jody and Dean keep an eye on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what's going on between Claire and Kaia? She seems pretty protective of her." Dean raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody smiles. "Those two are messy separated but together they’re unstoppable. They balance each other out. Claire fell hard and fast, Kaia just the same. Kaia soothes Claire and helps her think clearly. And Claire helps bring Kaia out of her shell. Ya know, Claire is just like you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea. Claire can be stubborn and hot-headed, but care so much it hurts. She would rather die than see the people she loves get hurt. You both have a soft side." Jody glances in Dean's direction. “And you’d risk everything for the ones you love.” He smiles slightly and huffs at the obvious similarities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the corner store, Claire is filling up two fountain drinks for her and Dean. “I heard about Cas. I’m sorry, Dean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sam called you didn't he?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea," she says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Of course he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He’s worried. We're all worried."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, Jody I appreciate what you're trying to do, I really do, but I'm good,” he says with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No you're not. Dean, you can't bottle up this pain and loneliness.” Dean looks away. "You can talk to me. I know what you’re going through- more than most people. I can see it all over your face. It’s like looking in a mirror."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenches his jaw multiple times, willing the tears away but he feels the burning behind his eyes. His throat begins to tighten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sniffs and clears his throat. “I’m fine, Jody. Really. I’m dealing with Cas’ death. I know Sam and Eileen they’re trying, and I love ‘em for it, but...I’ll be fine.” He looks over at her. She frowns at him, shaking her head, but understands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Losing people, especially someone so close to you like that, it changes you. When you’re ready to talk-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves to hug him and they stay like that for a long moment. The sound of the back door opens and Claire joins them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you guys having a moment? I can leave," she says with a bit of sarcasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you little shit. Let's get going," Dean says, running a hand down his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jody knocks on the front door, and is met with silence. Dean looks between her and Claire before knocking harder and announcing himself as FBI. No answer. He pulls out his lockpick and goes to work. Jody cautiously glances behind them, checking for bystanders. Within a few moments the door opens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house is unoccupied, and spotless. Stepford perfect. "Seem a little too clean to you?" Dean asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yea," Jody replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Upstairs might be a different story," Claire offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mirroring the downstairs, they find nothing unusual at first glance. Dean slowly inches inside the master bedroom and notices a box under the bed. He audibly hums and retrieves the box. Inside are small child bones, red tinted sand, black cat bones, multiple different herbs, and candles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yahtzee.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Found something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls join him around the box. "Witchcraft stuff?" Claire asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Witchcraft stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, if we are dealing with a witch, why no hex bags?" Jody asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Usually witches that seek revenge get their hands dirty. They don't leave hex bags. It's personal to them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, then let's stake out the house and wait for her to come back," Claire suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon hangs high in the midnight sky as they observe the house. The street is quiet save for the few cars that pass by. The Impala is parked several houses down to remain inconspicuous. A few hours pass and the house is still. Claire fiddles with her pocket knife in the back seat, as boredom sits in and Jody berates her carelessness. Dean's mind wanders to steely blue eyes and dark hair. He realizes working the case with Jody has truly distracted him. But now, the silence and anticipation has created a void that needs filling. All thoughts of Castiel consume him and his head begins to hurt as nausea creeps in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against all his instincts concerning a stake out, Dean excuses himself from the car and trudges toward the cover of some tall bushes. His head is spinning and he feels like dry heaving. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is wrong with me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Exhaling slowly, he pulls the flask from his jacket pocket and takes a quick swig. But the lip of the metal feels smooth, and the taste of whiskey is absent. Dean brings it into eyesight but he’s holding the small jar from his room. He must have placed it in his jacket pocket before leaving, absentmindedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing the lid, he returns the jar to his pocket. He licks his lips with apprehension. Then, the nausea and dizziness begin to dissipate. He wipes a hand across his mouth before returning to the car, and then an image of Castiel appears on the lawn. Dean halts in his tracks and blinks several times. He's still there. Dean swallows and enters the vehicle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea, I needed to stretch my legs," he lies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey guys, look," Claire says, sitting up, pointing to the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman walks away from her sedan in the driveway toward the door. "That must be her." Dean cocks his gun, full of witch-killing bullets and offers a handful to the girls. They both load their guns. “I cover the front, you both take the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lockpicks the door open and cautiously scans the rooms. He rounds the corner into the living room and the potion-induced Castiel sits upon the white polished couch. Dean's heart drops and he gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck, man?!" He whispers harshly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are the one who brought me here, Dean. Every time you drink that," he points to Dean's jacket. "It only worsens your symptoms. The headaches, nausea, and body aches. Your want to see me only will intensify." Dean clenches his jaw, unable to afford another moment with this enchanted Castiel, but would give anything to just sit with him. Dean motions to say something but stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a noise from the kitchen, pulling Dean’s attention. He turns toward it, disregarding Castiel's speech. Jody and Claire step into focus and they all three are at a stand still, on edge. Dean exhales, and lowers his pistol. “Anything?” He whispers. Jody shakes her head. Dean points upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the master bedroom, they hear muffled chanting, and shadows flicker across the wall accompanied by a golden glow. Dean kicks open the cracked door with the girls in tow. Six candles form a circle, in conjunction with red sand, a handful of small bones sit in the middle before the woman. At the sudden movement of the door, she shrieks and stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who the fuck are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna need you to back away from the circle of crazy," Dean says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’d listen to him," Jody adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No you don't understand. I can't stop. He'll kill me if I-" she pleads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who?" Dean asks incredulously. The woman doesn't answer. "Hey! He who?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I really can't-" she stutters, and motions to return to the circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, lady! Answer the damn question," Claire raises her gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I found out my husband was cheating on me and apparently he was planning on filing for divorce. I thought he loved me,” she cries. “I couldn’t stand the thought of him being with someone else, so I wanted revenge. I told a friend and she showed me a few things. Before I know it, I'm praying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she told me to use these,” she points to the ring of candles. “And now my husband is dead!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Isn't that what you wanted?" Claire asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No! Maybe him losing his job or gaining twenty pounds but not dying! I never asked for that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This doesn't make any sense. The crime scenes don't have any trace of sulfur or demon activity. You're lying," Dean says, readjusting his pistols aim - expression hard with disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no I swear. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted him to feel like how he made me feel! I wanted his heart crushed, ripped and pulled right from his chest. That’s how I felt!” The woman catches her breath and states more calmly. “I tried to stop, but it’s like someone else was moving my hands. I saw myself do those awful things. I didn’t realize it until later, but I was forced to do those things to that couple - to my husband,” she adds. “And he told me if I didn't give him more souls, he'd take mine," she sobs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mind control.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean, she wasn't in control during the murders." Jody whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But she instigated this. She's responsible," Claire adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please! I have to continue or he will kill me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel appears next to the woman, a sorrowful look on his face. "She was hurt, Dean. It was a mistake."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everyone just shut up! Let me think," he shouts and turns away. The cries from the woman fill the room, impeding Dean’s thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dean, she isn't an evil person. She deserves to be saved. She’s a victim too," Castiel speaks softly. Dean inhales and turns back to the woman. Jody and Claire remain oblivious to Castiel's presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going to protect you from the demon. We're going to save you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not five minutes later, the walls begin shaking, pictures fall to the floor, and the lights cut off. A massive black cloud swarms the house until it funnels inside the window, forming into a man. He is tall, with dark long hair, wearing all black business attire. Dean points his gun on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon laughs and waves them off. All three of their guns fly against the wall. "Come now, those can't kill me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, but this can," Dean pulls the demon knife out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm quaking in my boots," he chuckles darkly. "Put that thing away, darling before you hurt yourself." The demon flicks his wrist and the knife flies across the room, joining the guns on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon saunters over to the woman and runs his skeleton shaped fingers down her face. "You've disobeyed me. I told you what would happen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, please please," she cries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get away from her," Jody says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean communicates with Claire through a few quick glances to reach for the knife. She almost makes it before all three of them are thrown against furniture and the wall behind them. He walks over to Claire, punches her once and kicks her in the abdomen, immobilizing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody stands and runs at the demon. “Claire! Get away from her, you bastard.” The demon chuckles and motions his finger, flinging her back, hitting her head on a nightstand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think you can outsmart me?" The demon's true face surfaces, high sharp cheekbones, hollow dark eyes, and sharp pointed teeth. "I'm older than you could even imagine, Dean Winchester. You and your friends could only dream of taking me out." Dean glances between Claire and Jody. They’re both unconscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain emits from his ribs due to contact with a dresser, and Dean grimaces. "All you ugly evil son of bitches always think you’re hot shit. It’s embarrassing, honestly. I've taken down some pretty big fish. I think we can manage." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yes, I heard about the Winchester's taking down God </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Death. Quite cosmic. But you had help didn't you? That angel kid and your better half, Castiel. Looks like they aren’t here, and it appears I’m two for two with your friends. You’re nothing more than an egotistical man with shiny toys."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his peripheral, Claire is slowly coming to. “Yea, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon walks toward Dean. “No friends, no weapons. Without all that, there’s really nothing left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sneers. “You know, one thing I know for sure about demons,” he pauses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Dean slowly pulls a black shuriken, made of iron, from his back pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure do love to hear yourselves talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean throws the shuriken and hits the demon on the shoulder, stunning him. The woman screams in surprise. Claire scrambles for the knife, while Dean rams the demon against the window sill. Dean punches it multiple times, breaking the skin on his knuckles. Claire rushes to Jody, checking on her, and she awakens. They remove the woman from the room and take her to safety as Dean continues punching. The demon punches back and kicks Dean forcefully onto the floor. Dean coughs from the impact, trying to regain his breath as the demon kneels over him. Its thin, cold fingers grab Dean by the jaw tightly, pinning him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You pretend to be some tough guy, Dean but deep down you're just a scared little boy, who hates himself. It's honestly quite pathetic." The demon inches closer to Dean's face. "I can sense how worthless you feel, how lonely...and knowing how your angel died, it kills you. Doesn't it?" The demon smirks, exposing its teeth. Dean frowns, squirming under its grip. The demon places its free hand on Dean’s chest, and he cries out in pain. Then, the demon jolts from pressure behind it and gasps. Light emits throughout the body in multiple spurts, outlining its skeleton. The corpse falls next to Dean, revealing Claire holding the demon knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, a roaring blue fire destroys all traces of the witchcraft paraphernalia. Jody sternly tells the woman to never practice again and if anymore suspicious murders surface, she’ll be back. The Impala’s headlights shine bright on the asphalt. Rain falls hard against the windshield, and the wipers swipe across periodically. Dean clears his throat, uncomfortable in the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We did the right thing," Jody says. "Right?" She adds, skeptical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean glances at her and then the rear view mirror. Claire is looking out the window, arms crossed. Dean sees Castiel place his arm around her. Claire adjusts her shoulders but is unaware of the invisible angel. “I hope so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yea me too," Jody agrees. "Claire, how’re you doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine," she deadpans. A heavy moment of silence passes before Claire speaks again. “You did lie. Castiel is dead,” Claire accuses, but she’s right. Dean looks out the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire,” he starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can handle it. I’m not a kid anymore. It’s not like he,” she pauses, her voice thick with emotion. “He tried and that’s all that mattered. Tell me what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean checks the rear view mirror once more, and the illusion of Castiel is gone. “We were running from Billie, Death, and she had us cornered. We were about to die, but Cas saved me. He pushed me aside before Billie could attack, and sacrificed himself, fighting her off. He died right in front of me.” Jody gives him a strange look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean’s story doesn’t correlate with Sam’s. Maybe it’s how he needed to remember it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Claire says softly. Dean swallows hard against the dryness forming in his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, Dean’s thigh vibrates as his phone rings. He retrieves it from the pocket and the caller ID reads ‘Sam.’ “Yea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean! Eileen found something. How close are you to finishing the case?” Sam rushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m driving back to Jody’s as we speak, but I’m gonna need like four hours of sleep. I’m running on fumes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. We’ll see you soon then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you’re not going to tell me?” Dean asks, incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam hesitates. “I’d rather tell you in person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, Sam. You better fucking tell me right now,” he demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reaper’s blood. It says we can use reaper’s blood instead of angel grace,” Sam blurts out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinks a few times, digesting the information. He licks his lips. “How the hell are we gonna pull that off? It’s not like we have a psychic to astral project us anymore. And Billie was obviously a special case. We’d have to be dead, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Eileen and I are working on it. We’re trying to contact Rowena.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t reach her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s brow creases, and shakes his head. “What?” He asks, disbelieving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something about an understanding with Jack. I don’t know, some demon told me,” Dean says without thinking, not realizing he’s said too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some demon? Dean, what demon?” He demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, some low-life. I wasted him. Listen, I’m almost to Jody’s. I’ll talk to you later.” Dean hangs up on Sam, lying. Jody’s house is still a thirty minute drive. He exhales, trying to relieve the stress in his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The awkward silence hangs thick in the air around them. Claire glances between Dean and Jody and scoots forward. “You gonna share with the class?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you guys are liking it! Let me know what ya think :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Great Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i really enjoyed the end result of this chapter, but it was a bitch getting it all together lol I have a feeling everyone will be happy by the end of it :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house is warm and inviting, with a hint of cinnamon as Dean ventures into the living room. Exhaustion is creeping upon him with the weight of his limbs growing heavier. Alex is in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Jody had called ahead of time and nicely asked her to whip up something to eat. The strong scent of garlic and marinara cause Dean's stomach to immediately growl with intensity. </p><p>"I'm starving," he says, marching toward the kitchen. </p><p>Alex laughs and sets the tray of toasted garlic bread on the stove top. Kaia is setting the table as she looks toward the front door. Claire joins her before squeezing her arm lightly and planting a kiss on Kaia's cheek. Dean catches the gesture and glances at Jody, who is smiling earnestly. Removing her oven mit, adding a few extra touches to the spaghetti, Alex announces dinner is ready. Jody pulls out a bottle of wine and five glasses. She usually doesn't like the girl's drinking underage, but due to circumstances it's fitting. </p><p>Claire is buzzing with anticipation to hear what the hell Dean and Sam's conversation meant. It obviously has something to do with Castiel. No matter how much she pushed him to explain, Dean wouldn’t say anything. </p><p>Forks scrape against glass plates in silence. Alex glances between everyone before her, feeling the tension, unaware of the situation. Kaia places her hand on Claire's thigh, silently asking if she's alright through concerned eyes. Claire doesn't respond in any form and doesn't need to. Kaia already knows the answer. Tearing a piece of garlic bread off, Alex asks, "How was the hunt?"</p><p>"Fine," Claire deadpans, looking at Dean in her peripheral. He’s mindlessly twirling a lump of spaghetti, staring at the gap forming on his plate. </p><p>“Okay. What exactly was it? Kaia and I-”</p><p>"Are you going to tell us about the phone call, or not?" Claire asks, slightly annoyed, dropping her silverware on the table.</p><p>"Claire," Jody warns. </p><p>She scoffs. “He lied about Castiel, and now won’t say anything about that phone call like it’s some big secret? Keeping information from us like we don’t matter. You think you get to decide that? You selfish dick.” Dean gives her a look.</p><p>“Claire!” Jody chastises. </p><p>Dean glances to Jody, dismissing her. “Look, it’s not like that. I was trying to protect you.” </p><p>“Right. That’s the weakest excuse in the book, Dean.”</p><p>Alex is halfway chewing a bite of food, shocked at what she just heard. Working twelve hour shifts at the hospital really puts one out of the loop. Kaia clears her throat, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry, but what's going on exactly?" Alex nods in agreement. </p><p>Dean sighs, and face palms. He's too exhausted to whip up a recap at the moment. Jody quickly runs down a summary of the situation at hand - Castiel being in the Empty, Jack being the new God, and the brothers working to save Castiel. </p><p>"So there's a Hell for angels?" Kaia says absentmindedly. She glances at Claire and then Dean. </p><p>Holding her wine glass with both hands, Alex stares at the middle of the table - overwhelmed. "If angels are from Heaven, wouldn't they just go to another Heavenly realm in death? Why would they go to a hellish dimension when they die? They're supposed to be good. Doesn’t make sense." Tears almost form in her eyes as she wonders how the hell could she make it to Heaven if an angel can't. </p><p>Dean clenches his jaw. "I don't know. Not all angels were good. A lot of them were dicks, but I don't know if that constitutes them going to Hell." <em> Cas certainly didn't deserve it. </em> </p><p>“I think Heaven is strictly for human souls, and the angels watch over them until they die,” Jody reassures Alex.</p><p>"That's why we need to work together. Get Castiel back. He doesn't belong there," Claire says. </p><p>"Claire, I get it. Trust me. But this could be dangerous, and we don’t even know if it will work. After everything, I couldn't risk something happening to you," Dean replies. </p><p>"I don’t care about your opinion. I’m in this now." Dean glances at Jody, pleading for help. She shrugs, knowing there is no stopping Claire Novak when she has her mind set on something. “How does the spell work?”</p><p>Dean groans, pinches the bridge of nose, and squeezes his eyes tight. His eyelids become suddenly heavy with sleep. "We don't know," he sounds a little aggravated. "It initially calls for angel grace, but we're fresh out. Now, apparently there's an alternative," he trails off with uncertainty. “Reaper’s blood.”</p><p>"Reaper’s blood?" Jody inquires, and Dean nods in confirmation. "How does that work? Don't you have to be dead?"</p><p>"Last time I checked, but with no angel or juiced up kid on standby, it's a bit more tricky. There are other ways to access the Veil, but they aren't as reliable. Magic always comes with a cost," he sighs.</p><p>A moment passes. Jody downs the rest of her glass of wine and pours another one. The ceiling fan slowly spins in the neighboring room, breaking the thick silence with its wooden creaks. Claire pushes her half-touched dinner away, and crosses her arms on the table. Kaia sips down the remainder of her water and rubs Claire's upper back in slow circular motions. Kaia can feel Claire's muscles tense under her touch and slowly relax. Despite how long they've shared each other's touch, Claire still is adjusting to the vulnerability. </p><p>"Wait. You said angel grace?" Kaia inquires. </p><p>Dean's eyes are closed, begging for sleep as he nods. "Yea."</p><p>“And what exactly is it?”</p><p>“It’s an angel’s essence. Without it, they sort of fade away, and become an average joe. It’s what charges them up,” Dean explains.</p><p>“And they can heal people with it, right?” Kaia asks, and Dean nods in return, his eyebrow creased, curious where she is going with this. “Could someone have angel grace, but not be an angel?”</p><p>“What do you mean, Kaia?” Jody leans forward.</p><p>She straightens her posture and stops rubbing Claire's back. "A few months back Claire and I went on this hunt in Wyoming. Nothing we couldn't handle, at least we thought."</p><p>"Kaia," Claire shoots her a look. </p><p>Kaia hesitates before continuing. “I told Claire we should call Jody, but she insisted we could handle a few vampires. A few turned into a nest and things got complicated.”</p><p>Jody furrows her brow at Claire, disappointed and upset. “This is the first time I’m hearing this.” Claire avoids Jody’s eyes.</p><p>“Something told me to bring my Dead Man’s blood nail bomb. It slowed them down, but,” Kaia steals a glance at Claire. “Not without Claire getting hurt. I got out in time, thinking she was right behind me. I turned back to the warehouse and she wasn’t there. So I started to panic and ran back inside. The vamps were mostly cowering in pain, except one had Claire pinned.” Kaia tucks her hair behind her ear, and swallows deeply. Dean sits up, concerned even though Claire is sitting right in front of him. Kaia recounts that evening.</p><p>
  <em> A vampire leaning over Claire is pushing against the machete in her hands. It’s pointed sideways, and Claire is struggling to regain the upper hand. “You come into my home, and think you can get away with hurting my people?” The vampire seethes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Claire feels the blade push further toward her throat. “You might want to look into interior design, the place sucks.” She quickly headbutts the vampire and he stumbles back with the machete in hand. Claire rears back for a punch; he blocks the attack and kicks her back against a cement pillar. She hits her head and is momentarily stunned.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kaia rushes back in time to see the vampire motioning toward Claire with the machete. That’s when Claire feels a white-hot pain in her stomach and hears a faint scream echo. Her vision slows as her nerves fire off with another excruciating pain in her abdomen, followed by a sharp pinch in her neck. Kaia pulls the vampire off of Claire and slices his head off and Claire falls to the floor. A few stragglers begin to regain composure from the bomb and slowly make their way toward the girls.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit. Claire, oh fuck. Claire!” Kaia drops the machete at the sight before her. She puts her arm underneath Claire’s and around her torso, pulling her up. They barely make their way outside, into the sunlight, away from the nest. Claire starts to lose the ability to walk and they drop down by a nearby tree. Kaia looks her over with shaky hands.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, God. There’s so much blood.” Claire’s eyelids begin to droop, Kaia grabs her face. “Claire! Open your eyes! Hey! Stay with me, okay? I can’t lose you. Not now. We just found each other, again,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ve barely started. It can’t end now. Not like this,” she cries. “Claire, open your eyes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She coughs in response and some blood spurts out onto her lips. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears are falling from Kaia’s eyes freely now. “No. Don’t do that. No goodbyes. We can patch you up. Just keep holding pressure.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Claire’s hand weakly lands on Kaia’s cheeks, leaving blood stains, and she weakly grins with regret. “Tell Jody I’m sorry.” Kaia sniffs, and after a beat Claire’s eyelids fall and Kaia feels her hand go limp against her cheek. She shoots her own up to keep Claire’s from falling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, no, no, no,” she stares in disbelief. She shakes Claire’s arm. “Claire?” Her voice cracks. Kaia’s heart-wrenches with agony, and she quietly sobs. She pulls Claire toward her chest and grips her tight. Her hands are thick and sticky with blood but she doesn’t care. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then, blue light emits from within Claire. Kaia jumps in response, not knowing what it means. She sits back as she watches the vampire bite on Claire’s neck fully heal and the stab wound close up - gone. But no reaction from Claire. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Claire?” Kaia whispers, unsure if she will even respond. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She quickly inhales and sits up. Relief washes over Kaia and she attacks Claire, wrapping her arms around her. Claire groans but returns the gesture. </em>
</p><p>The room is silent. Dean and Jody are both glaring at Claire, but with a hint of relief and confusion. Alex is pouring her third glass of wine. Dean begins to reach for his whiskey in his jacket pocket, until he remembers what is actually inside. Claire finally makes eye contact with Jody. “Is anyone going to say anything?”</p><p>“Where do I begin?” Jody scoffs.</p><p>“What were you thinking?” Dean says, expression intense.</p><p>Claire shakes her head. “I thought we had it handled. I didn’t know it was a nest.”</p><p>“You should have called. You could have died.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Dammit, Claire,” Jody’s voice wavers. “What would I have done? Do you ever think? I honestly don’t know what to say.”</p><p>Dean inhales, softening his face. “I need something stronger, Jody.”</p><p>“Yea, I’m getting the whiskey,” Alex says, standing up.</p><p>Kaia’s gaze follows Alex's movements as she reaches for the whiskey above the refrigerator. “The blue light that came from Claire, what was it? She was dead and then she wasn’t.” Kaia looks at Dean.</p><p>Dean chews the inside of his cheek, unsure for a moment until he remembers Claire has been possessed by an angel. Castiel, in fact. “My guess, angel grace,” he takes a swig from the glass of whiskey Alex pours him. “It’s a miracle she even had some left.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Claire asks.</p><p>“When an angel possesses a human, they leave behind traces of their grace.” Then, Dean has an epiphany. <em> Michael’s grace. There’s gotta be some residual grace left in me too. </em></p><p>“So a part of Castiel has been with me this whole time? He saved me.” She looks at Kaia.</p><p>“Yea, it appears so,” Dean confirms.</p><p>“So whatever’s in me can help with the spell,” she says, hopeful. </p><p>“The last time we tried to extract angel grace from a human it almost killed them. I’m not going to put you through that.”</p><p>“I can handle it.”</p><p>“Claire, no,” Jody states. “If Dean says it’s dangerous, then no. You’ve already gotten yourself killed.”</p><p>“Besides, we have no way of knowing if that was the last of it. For all we know, it could have been depleting over the years and that was the last of its mojo. Not worth the risk.” Dean finishes off his whiskey. “Cas, wouldn’t want you dying for him,” he says softly.</p><p>Claire gets up from the table and pauses. “Whatever, it’s not like he was my dad or anything.” She turns and marches upstairs. </p><p>Kaia’s gaze follows her. “I-I’m gonna go check on her.”</p><p>“She just needs time,” Alex says and begins to clear the table.</p><p>“Yea.” Dean pours another glass of whiskey. “I can see the resemblance now.” He turns to Jody with a half smirk.</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “It’s uncanny.” Jody gulps down a mouthful of whiskey. “Dean, I know you said Claire helping would be dangerous, but it sounds like the alternative is just as, if not more dangerous. Do you boys know what you’re getting yourselves into?”</p><p>Dean swirls the dark-honey tinted liquor in his glass. He flicks his eyebrows up before taking a swig. “I have a long drive tomorrow. I need to get some rest.”</p><p>“You can take my bed. I have to go to work in an hour,” Alex offers, drying a pan.</p><p>“Thanks, but I’ll just crash on the couch.” </p><p>Dean downs the rest of the whiskey and moves to the couch. His head is heavy with exhaustion and mind thick with alcohol. His worries surface as he dwells on the possibility of the spell failing and losing Castiel forever. He dwells on the absence he feels within him and his heart aches. His eyes start to burn behind his eyelids and he clenches his jaw, swallowing his emotions. The kitchen light shuts off and he hears footsteps recede up the stairs. He’s alone, drowning in his thoughts. Dean squeezes his eyes tight, willing sleep to overcome him. Soon, he drifts off into darkness. </p><p>Like clockwork, Dean wakes up a little over four hours later. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Sighing, he considers telling Jody goodbye but decides not to disturb anyone. Instead, he leaves a note on the refrigerator: <em> Thanks, Jody. I’ll call, if things get hairy. </em>He quietly shuts the front door and is back on the highway toward Lebanon. Dean pockets his phone and dials Sam’s number.</p><p>“Dean?”</p><p>“Hey, Sam. I think we may have overlooked this whole angel grace thing.” Sam is quiet, allowing Dean to continue. “When Gadreel possessed you, he left some behind right?”</p><p>“Yea, but it’s gone now.”</p><p>“Right, but Michael, a fucking archangel, flaunted my ass - twice. There’s gotta be some juice left in me. It’s worth a shot,” he sounds almost hopeful.</p><p>“Dean, I don’t know. When Cas tried to extract Gadreel’s grace, it almost killed me.”</p><p>“Circumstances were different,” he pauses. “We don’t have anything on the reaper’s blood. This is it. We’re so close to the finish line, Sammy. I need you with me on this.” A beat. “Sam?”</p><p>He clears his throat. “Yea, alright.”</p><p>Dean can hear the uncertainty in his brother’s voice. “This will work. This is how we bring him back.” Sam halfheartedly agrees and Dean hangs up and tosses his phone on the passenger seat. He exhales, closes his eyes briefly, and then focuses on the road before him.</p><p>Dean shuffles down the staircase of the bunker, and is met with a warm welcome from Miracle. He grins as he barks in greeting and jumps up, twirling around with excitement. “Okay, boy,” he coos, trying to calm down Miracle. “When was the last time someone gave you any attention?” He kneels down and rubs both sides of the dog’s face. Dean looks around, scanning the library. It’s vacant aside for the books piled on the tables and thrown haphazardly on the floor. “Sam? Eileen?” Miracle whines, and Dean ruffles the top of his head before standing.</p><p>He tosses his duffle bag on the war table and advances through the bunker, carefully stepping through the maze of books. As he passes each room, Dean is met with silence. There are no signs of a struggle. “Sam!” Reaching for his phone, rounding the corner of the hallway, he hears soft laughter. Dean walks toward the sound. It’s coming from his man cave where light from the TV illuminates the room. Inside, Eileen is texting while Pineapple Express plays on the screen, audio silent replaced with subtitles. </p><p>Dean creases his brow together, curious where his brother is, and motions to knock on the door but stops himself. He shakes his head at his own stupidity. He stands next to the couch and lightly touches Eileen’s shoulder to get her attention. She turns toward him and smiles.</p><p>“Dean! Oh, I hope you don’t mind me using the room. Sam, said you wouldn’t,” she rushes.</p><p>“What? No, it’s fine. Watch whatever you want. Speaking of Sam, where is he?”</p><p>“With all the research we have been doing, it’s been a bit difficult to keep up with groceries. So we didn’t have anything to eat. He’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Confusion crosses his face. “It’s like four in the morning. Why the hell are you eating at four in the morning?” She looks away. “Eileen,” he moves so she has to look at him. “Eileen, where’s my brother?”</p><p>“He went after our last lead on the reaper’s blood. He said he couldn’t let you kill yourself,” she says quickly and follows Dean as he is rushing toward the main entrance. “Dean!”</p><p>He rounds on Eileen, his brow creased. “Tell me where he is.” His face softens. “Eileen, please. I’ve already lost Cas. I can’t lose Sam too.”</p><p>She sighs, glancing past Dean at the library where Sam stood merely thirty minutes ago. He  was reading from a book titled, “<b>THE GUARDIANS OF THE DEAD.</b>” It mentioned a plethora of lore regarding reapers, but Sam was focusing on the chapter dedicated to the mystical physiology aspects. The passage described ways on how to obtain reaper’s blood while in the Veil, including magic. Sam safely assumed that astral projection is second to magic, and if a psychic was able to land them in the Veil, then so could a witch. </p><p>“We tried to contact Rowena again,” she eyes the wooden bowl on the table.</p><p>“Dial tone, huh?”</p><p>“We tried, but it’s like no one is listening.”</p><p>“Believe me, I know.” She looks down, finding her palm suddenly interesting. Dean signs, “Hey,” grabbing her attention. “Eileen, where’s Sam?”</p><p>“He did a local beacon spell and believes there is a powerful warlock in the area. He’s on his way there now,” she says. </p><p>Realization crosses Dean’s face. <em> Lucian. </em> He all but trips, racing up the steps with Eileen in tow. The anxiety and concern emitting from Dean is tangible. She tries to muster an explanation out of him, but Dean stays focused on the isolated asphalt. <em> That dumbass. I told him to drop it. I told him we had a plan. </em> Several miles pass and Eileen surrenders in her attempts to understand what's happening. So, she opts to stare out the passenger window, withdrawing her attention from the road. When a sudden jerk from the Impala forces her to the side, it causes her to shriek in surprise. Dean zooms forward and whips around in front of another vehicle, stopping it - stopping Sam. Tires screech against the asphalt, leaving rubber burns. The Impala is parked sideways, blocking both lanes of the road, but Dean disregards it. Both brothers hop out of their vehicles.</p><p>Sam, shocked, almost doesn’t recognize the Impala. “Dean?”</p><p>“The hell are you thinking? I told you to leave this shit alone. We have a way to save, Cas!” Dean says, voice steady and his jaw tense as he advances toward Sam.</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Eileen told me your stupid, dumbass plan. Get some sketchy witch to do the dirty work? We don’t trust witches!”</p><p>“I’m trying to save Cas. I’m trying to save you from yourself!” Sam retorts.</p><p>“You think this is the better option? It’s a shot in the dark. At least we know, with me, there’s a chance!” Dean’s eyes bore into his brother’s, pleading for him to listen. “Sam, just trust me.” He places his hands on Sam’s shoulders, and he looks away. “You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into. With my plan, we know who we’re dealing with. It’s you and me, brother. And I have faith in us.” Sam looks at his brother, realizing this is the first time in weeks Dean has sounded hopeful.</p><p>“What if something goes wrong?”</p><p>“Then we’ll cross that bridge.” Dean pats his brother on the cheek and gives him a knowing look. “Come on.” All three separate into the two vehicles. Dean in the Impala, Eileen and Sam in the other.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Dean steps onto the railing of the front entrance of the bunker, and spots Claire and Kaia sitting in the war room. His brow creases, confused and he shuffles down the stairs followed by Eileen and Sam. “What are you doing here?” He demands.</p><p>Sam glances between Claire and Dean. “What an unexpected surprise. Hey guys.”</p><p>Claire slowly turns away from Kaia, meeting the older brother’s gaze. With her eyebrow cocked, she disregards Sam and replies, “We’re here to help, dingus. You think I’m giving up on this that easily? Would you?” Dean’s expression softens, and he licks his lips. </p><p>“Fine. But you’re only here for backup.”</p><p>Claire crosses her arms, and rolls her eyes. “I can be of more use than that, and you know it.”</p><p>“We’re not discussing it. Sam, get the supplies ready for the extraction. Eileen, keep an eye on these two. I’ll be back.” On the ride home, Sam explained Dean’s plan to Eileen. That he possibly has fragments of grace from the archangel Michael, and is willing to undergo the extraction process. She is still somewhat puzzled by the procedure but quickly adapting.</p><p>“Hello, I’m Eileen,” she introduces, with a small wave, feeling slightly weird.</p><p>Claire ignores her, instead pays more attention to the books on the library table. “Hi. I’m Kaia and that’s Claire. She sometimes has a tendency to make things awkward,” Kaia harshly whispers.</p><p>“I heard that.” Claire says while flipping through a book about astral projection.</p><p>Dean closes his bedroom door quickly, and shuts his eyes. His heart is pounding. This is it. For weeks, he’s searched and searched for an answer to bring Castiel back. With every dead end, he felt something latch onto his ankle, pulling him further under the surface. Now, the grip has loosened and he’s above water. Exhaling, Dean’s shoulders relax and a large amount of stress rolls off of him. </p><p>“Whoever is listening, please let this work. With everything that’s happened, this has to work. It needs to work.”</p><p>Amara appears next to Dean, staring at him sorrowfully. Jack sits upon the bed. Both invisible to Dean. “You need to tell them, Jack. You have to stop them.”</p><p>“I can’t-”</p><p>Amara walks toward Jack, stopping before him. “You can’t or you won’t?” Jack swallows hard, with no response. “You know what? Screw this disconnected omnipotent crap. They need you.” Dean exits the room, leaving Amara and Jack alone. “This isn’t right. You know that.” Jack’s eyes are sad with confliction. Amara kneels down, her voice softer. “I know you fear what you might become. That you’ll follow the same path as my brother, but that isn’t you, Jack. You have a choice here. The burden you bear, you shouldn’t face it alone. It’s possible to find a balance.”</p><p>Everyone gathers in the infirmary to prepare for the spell. Sam collects a large bowl, some witch hazel, a couple of candles, the artifact, the book containing the incantation, and the syringe for the extraction. Eileen stands next to Sam as he lights the candles. Claire and Kaia sit at the far end of the room, spectating. </p><p>Footsteps echo as Dean joins the group. He glances between everyone, staring back at him. The silence is deafening, with apprehension cloaking the room. Dean plasters on a fake grin and walks up to the table. He reaches down and carefully picks up the large syringe.</p><p>He eyes the pointed end, and swallows. “God, I hate needles.”</p><p>“Such a baby,” Claire says. Dean gives her a look.</p><p>“Alright, I think everything is in order for the spell. Now, we just need the grace,” Sam states.</p><p>“So what exactly does this spell do?” Claire asks.</p><p>Sam turns around in response. “Well, essentially this artifact is supposed to open the Empty and bring Cas to us. It’s kind of like a compass. It’ll show him our location.”</p><p>“And the grace?”</p><p>“Think of it as a key to a lock. It opens up the door to the Empty,” Eileen offers.</p><p>“Well, then no more time to waste,” Dean says and positions the needle above his arm. He slowly injects it, and withdraws a large amount of grace, filling the entire syringe. He retracts the needle, and begins to feel lightheaded. “Think this is enough?”</p><p>“I hope so.” Sam grabs the syringe and starts to twist off the needle but stops. He looks up in shock.</p><p>“Hello.” Jack appears before them, with his hand raised in greeting.</p><p>Dean quickly turns at the sound, almost losing balance. “What the hell?”</p><p>“Jack?” Sam says in disbelief.</p><p>“Are you kidding me? I’ve been calling you for weeks! Bring him back!” Dean marches to Jack, completely dismissing the spell.</p><p>Jack lowers his gaze. “I know. I’m sorry, Dean. My choices have been uncharacteristic. I see that now.”</p><p>“Uncharacter-” Dean turns to face Sam. “He thinks he’s been uncharacteristic.” Facing Jack, he yells, “You’ve been a complete dickwad! You left us! We were family! We don’t leave family behind. I thought we taught you that.”</p><p>“Dean, I understand your anger. But I’m more than just my old self now. It was difficult to find a balance. But with some help, I think I know now.”</p><p>Sam walks closer to the two, joining the conversation now. “What do you mean, Jack?”</p><p>“Amara. She’s shown me how to balance family and the new me.”</p><p>“Wait, you’re Jack?” Claire says.</p><p>“I am,” he nods, grinning.</p><p>She huffs. “I pictured some little kid.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Claire grins at his naivety and shakes her head. “Nothing.”</p><p>“I hate to break up your wholesome moment, but why are you here, Jack?” Dean asks.</p><p>Jack looks to the side, as if he’s looking to someone for reassurance. Amara appears in front of Jack, visible only to him, and nods. “You need to stop the spell.”</p><p>“What?” Sam asks, confused.</p><p>“Like hell,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “We're bringing Cas back. No thanks to you. If this is why you're here, then nice seeing ya." He turns away and starts walking toward the table displaying the spell contents.</p><p>"Dean, I'm trying to help."</p><p>“Help? That’s hilarious.”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam says, hushing him. “Jack? What’s going on?” Sam walks closer to him.</p><p>“The spell. If you finish it, Dean will die.”</p><p>Dean turns around, his brow creased. “What?”</p><p>“The translation from the book was misinterpreted many years ago and important details were lost.” He walks over to the coin and picks it up. “The Enochian on this describes it as a compass, but for it to work correctly there must be a tether.”</p><p>“A tether?” Sam asks.</p><p>“One soul stays on this plane, while the other uses this to enter the Empty. It gives off a supernatural aura and protects you from the Empty. Without a tether, the one who crosses the barrier dies. Humans do not belong there. That is why angel grace or reaper’s blood is required to access the Empty."</p><p>“That’s pretty much what we were doing,” Dean says, annoyed.</p><p>“No," he gently sits the coin down and looks to Dean. "Your intention with Michael’s grace was to compress its power and rip open a portal to the Empty. That would have destroyed his grace and you’d have lost your tether. Your connection back to Earth and you’d die before you even stepped into the Empty,” Jack retorts.</p><p>Claire steps forward. “Alright, so what do we need to do?”</p><p>Eyeing her, Jack grins. “I'll guide you. I can't intervene but I'll tell you what to do."</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes at Jack's remark about not intervening. "So that’s your way of balancing things out?” Jack nods. “Right. Well, where do we find this tether or whatever."</p><p>Jack walks to Claire, and stops at her side. He faces the brothers and Eileen. "She's the tether." He points to Claire. </p><p>"Me?"</p><p>"Her?" Dean asks incredulously. </p><p>"Yes. Michael's grace will successfully open the portal to the Empty and with Claire's connection to Castiel you will be able to pass through." </p><p>"Her connection? You mean the angel grace?" Kaia asks, and Jack nods. "We weren't sure she had any left in her."</p><p>"I can sense it. There isn't much, so Dean will have to work quickly to find Cas." Jack turns to Claire, his eyes somber. "I have to let you know this won't be easy. It will be painful. The remaining grace will act as a conduit to another dimension full of pain and despair. That will flow through you, and you two will be connected. The further he goes-"</p><p>"Okay! Thanks, Jack," Kaia stops him. The gravity of the spell weighs heavy on Claire. She's staring at a chipped tile on the floor, zoning out. Silence hangs thick in the room as everyone digests Jack's words. </p><p>Dean's heart aches with anguish. Knowing the risk of the spell, realizing it's over, he wipes a hand across his mouth. “We’re not doing that."</p><p>"I'll do it." They say simultaneously. Dean gives Claire a look. </p><p>"Absolutely not."</p><p>"You heard him. It's the only way."</p><p>"Claire," Kaia starts. Claire looks into her chocolate eyes and tilts her head with sorrow.</p><p>"Jack, there's gotta be another way," Sam begs. </p><p>"I'm sorry, but this is the only way." His eyes apologetic. </p><p>A moment passes and Claire steps forward. "Do whatever you have to do. Let's get this over with."</p><p>Sam and Eileen listen as Jack describes the correct order of ingredients and the incantation for the spell. Holy oil is one of the many ingredients they're missing. Sam raises his eyebrows, "That must have been one of the things lost in translation." He looks at Eileen. </p><p>On the bed, Kaia and Claire sit closely, whispering. Kaia has her hand on Claire's knee, wishing to take her place and protect her from this. Dean walks up to them, feeling as if he's interrupting a private moment. </p><p>He clears his throat, making his presence known. "Claire, are you sure about this"</p><p>Apprehension flows through her veins thick and heavy. She glances down and motions to speak but uncertainty dries the words in her throat and she struggles to meet Dean's eyes. </p><p>"We're ready," Sam calls to them. Claire looks at Kaia and they share a longing look, eyes buried deep with love, understanding but masked with concern. </p><p>"Good," Claire stands and marches to the table and holds her head high. </p><p>Sam and Dean share a knowing look before everyone gets into position for the spell. Jack stands off to the side while Dean and Claire face each other, holding hands. Walking slowly, with her hands in loose fists, Kaia joins Jack. </p><p>Sam twists the needle from the syringe and pours the grace into the bowl, mixing it with the other ingredients. The contents form a mist upon contact. Before starting, Sam looks to Eileen and she nods. "In antiquis regnum et tenebrae recludo coram!" Sam recites. The Enochian on the artifact glows red hot and the diamond shape pops up. The mixture in the bowl begins to boil and the mist flows up, swirling high then stops. A bright, white stream of light shoots up from the center of the bowl and passes between Dean and Claire. Stopping five feet away, a rippling goo begins to form. The portal opens. </p><p>Dean recognizes it and an ache forms within him but is unsure why. He looks to Claire. "Now, what?" Suddenly, the two jar back as a blue transparent light connects them. Their eyes glow blue, and Claire feels her chest tighten. Dean feels the same but his head is also spinning. Then, he falls to the floor and gasps. Claire, however, remains standing with her eyes glowing. </p><p>Breathing heavily, clutching his chest, he looks up at Claire. The blue light follows Dean's movements as he slowly stands. "You need to hurry, Dean." Jack reminds him. </p><p>Sam grabs the coin on the table and holds it out to him. "Both of you come back in one piece, alright?"</p><p>Nodding, Dean makes his way to the portal and carefully steps through. Swirling darkness engulfs him as the passage to the Empty processes his entrance. His head continues to spin from the spell and confusion overcomes him as unfamiliar images of Castiel begin to form in his consciousness. Castiel standing before him crying and saying something. Then, clear as a bell, "I love you," and the memory of the confession comes rushing back. </p><p>Dean shakes his head, processing it again. Every emotion he experienced in that moment smothers him as the blanket of darkness clears and he steps into the Empty. <em> I remember. </em> The connection with Castiel's grace overpowered the warlock's spell. Relief fills Dean as the coin begins to spin uncontrollably. Taking a few steps forward, the high-pitched echoes shoot through his ears and he doubles over in pain. </p><p>"Son of a bitch! What the hell was that?" He says, straightening up, regaining his composure. </p><p>The makeshift compass stops and points eastward. Dean shrugs and treks along an unmarked path. The Empty is just that empty. There is absolutely nothing aside from the occasional high-pitched noises. Dean feels a warmth on his right ear, touching the skin, he notices blood dripping down. <em> Awesome. </em> </p><p>
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</p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>In the bunker, Claire remains frozen in place with the stream of light pulsating from her chest. Kaia stalks up by her side and searches her face. “Is she okay?”</p><p>“Right now, she's unconscious and unaware of what's happening. As long as Dean works quickly, she'll be fine," Jack replies.</p><p>“And if he doesn’t?” Sam asks.</p><p>“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Jack’s face is somber as he eyes Claire.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Switching directions multiple times, Dean becomes irritated as he wanders the darkness blindly. He begins to think the compass is useless and misleading him until in the distance he sees a tan speck. His heart begins to pound against his chest, breaking into a smile, Dean sprints forward.</p><p>Dean reaches a curled up Castiel, disheveled and bloody. His trench coat and suit are ripped to shreds, revealing deep gashes on his skin. Halting in his tracks, Dean gapes at the site of Castiel. He is motionless, and small under Dean’s gaze. His heart stops, afraid he’s possibly too late. Then, a painful cough escapes past the angel’s lips.</p><p>Castiel slowly opens his eyes, looking at Dean. The cerulean stands out against the crimson spattered across his face and Dean grins, bursting with happiness. “Cas!” Dean kneels next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Leave me alone. Haven’t you had enough?” He says weakly. Dean’s face twists with confusion.</p><p>“What? Cas, it’s me. I finally found you. I can’t believe I found you.” He motions to help Castiel up, but the angel pushes him away. Dean creases his brow in response. “Cas, we aren’t safe here. We need to move. I’m pulling a Han Solo here, man. Come on.”</p><p>“Stop! Okay, just stop. I’m tired of your games. I know this isn’t real,” he sits up, with exhaustion written on his face.</p><p>Dean is taken aback. “No, Cas. This is real. <em> I </em> am real!” He grabs Castiel’s hand and places it on his chest. “I need you to believe me.”</p><p>He removes his hand from Dean’s chest, and backs up. A sharp pain pierces Dean like a spear, seeing Castiel recoil from him. “Is this supposed to be some twisted version of good cop bad cop? You cut into my psyche and bleed me dry like an animal and then play nice?”</p><p>“Cas, no. It’s really me. I’m here to take you home,” Dean pleads. The stream running through his chest, connecting him and Claire, tugs and burns hot. He turns back to the flowing light, struggling to hold the connection.</p><p>
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</p><p>******</p><p>
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</p><p>Kaia’s heart pounds hard against her chest as she monitors the love of her life. Eileen is comforting her, with a warm hand placed on her shoulder. “They’re taking a long time.”</p><p>Glancing at his watch, Sam realizes the delay. “Yea. It’s been almost an hour. Claire seems to be alright for now, though.”</p><p>“Maybe they’re on their way back,” Eileen offers, hopeful, but her words fall short.</p><p>The stream of light suddenly sparks, dimming and brightening. Claire jolts with the movement, and a drop of blood falls from her nose. Her face is twisted with pain, but she remains unconscious. Kaia straightens in response and reaches toward her.</p><p>“Don’t touch her! If you disrupt the connection, we’ll lose Dean forever,” Jack says.</p><p>“She’s in pain!” Kaia cries.</p><p>Sam places his hand on her shoulder. “She chose this. She’ll be okay. Claire’s strong.”</p><p>
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</p><p>******</p><p>
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</p><p>Castiel scoffs. Dean grabs his cheeks and stares intensely. “Listen, I’m not leaving without you. I’ll carry you over my damn shoulder if I have to. We’ve fought our way through worse. Right? I’m not going to let some slimy pile of shit stop us.” Dean smiles, trying to reach Castiel.</p><p>For a moment, Dean sees a flash of contentment then the angel shakes his head. “No. I know humans can’t exist here. The real Dean, my Dean, couldn’t be here.” </p><p><em> My Dean. </em> “Dammit, Cas! I am the real Dean! <em> Your </em> Dean. And you're <em> my </em>Cas. I don’t know what happened to you here, but what I do know is, we're real. I know that I can’t lose you again. That night was one of the worst nights of my life, Cas. Ever since then, I’ve thought about what I want to say - what I should have said.”</p><p>Castiel tilts his head. The image is all too familiar. “Dean?”</p><p>“I don't know when things began to change between us, but they did and it scared me. Every time we would get close, I felt myself pull away just enough to shield myself. Then, after losing you to Lucifer, my anger, and then the Empty I realized how much of a coward I was. I may have changed you, Cas, but you changed me too.” Dean pauses and exhales. "Our whole relationship, you sacrificed everything for me. Never asked for anything in return. You gave up everything for me and I took that for granted. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve what I put on you. You deserve to be loved too.” Castiel’s eyes search Dean’s face.</p><p>“I love you, Cas.” Dean grins, relieved to finally confess his love to the angel.</p><p>“Aw, well ain’t that adorably disgusting.” Meg’s voice sounds from behind Dean, her tone insolent and dry. Recognition flashes across Castiel’s face. Dean is actually sitting before him. Dean just told him he loves him.</p><p>Standing up, facing the Shadow, Dean deadpans at its remark. “Eat me, Nickelodeon.”</p><p>“Cute.” The Shadow smirks. She steps around Dean, eyeing him up and down. “How are you here? You’re human.” The streaming light, flowing behind Dean blinks and piques the Shadow’s curiosity. “What’s that?” Dean steps back, trying to protect the connection somehow. “Is that how you’re doing it? Tsk. Tsk. I don’t appreciate cheaters.” She says before reeling back and slamming her fist into Dean. </p><p>Stumbling back, he gears up to defend himself but the Shadow lands another punch. It grabs his collar to hold him steady. “I’m gonna break you into pieces. Then I’m going to rip that pretty little light out of you. And your precious angel will watch as you combust into nothing,” the Shadow, inches from Dean’s face, sneers. He grimaces and jolts forward, headbutting it. Stunning the Shadow, Dean takes the opportunity to land a few punches himself. He reels back after landing a handful of hits, but his arm is blocked and a strong kick to the abdomen pushes him back. </p><p>“You can’t win this, Dean,” the Shadow laughs. “I’m an undead cosmic being, and you’re a pathetic human.”</p><p>It’s knuckles land on Dean’s face again, with another incoming but he blocks it. Dean gains the upper hand once more, throwing a few punches until the Shadow twists his arm, pulling him to the ground. He grimaces as white-hot pain shoots through his arm. Castiel remains weak and motionless. His chest tightens with agony as he’s forced to watch Dean suffer. The Shadow kneels above Dean with a sadistic grin, gripping his jaw. “I’m going to enjoy this.”</p><p>An excruciating sting spreads through Dean’s chest as the Shadow presses down. It’s fingers deepen into his skin like claws. He cries out in pain, wincing. Castiel yells, “Dean!” </p><p>
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</p><p>******</p><p>
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</p><p>Twenty minutes after Claire’s nose bleeds, no more incidents develop. Kaia’s knee shakes anxiously, awaiting Dean and Castiel’s return. Her heart cannot bear the thought of losing Claire again. Suddenly, the flowing light flickers and Claire convulses. Everyone jumps up, running to her. </p><p>“Oh my god! What’s happening!” Kaia cries.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Sam says, just as worried.</p><p>“Do something!” Kaia directs at Jack. He frowns, unresponsive.</p><p>Claire’s head falls loosely to her chest, with her eyes closed. Everyone remains still and on edge. The silence blankets the room, increasing Kaia’s anxiety. “Claire?” She remains unconscious, but still standing. After a calm moment, violent coughing erupts from Claire, followed by a pool of dark crimson.</p><p>“Oh, god,” Eileen whispers.</p><p>“Claire!” Kaia rushes closer, dying to hold her.</p><p>“Kaia,” Jack warns.</p><p>Blood profusely drips from Claire’s nose as she continues to cough. Despite the power from the spell, Claire’s legs give out and she falls to the floor. Kaia drops to her side. The image of her is all too familiar and Kaia begins to panic. Not thinking, she reaches down and grasps Claire’s face.</p><p>“Don’t!” Jack shouts. The touch sends electrical shocks through both girls, causing Kaia to withdraw her hands and Claire recoil in pain. The stream of light flickers viciously, and disappears.</p><p>Sam turns to the portal, stunned. “No. No, no, no, no.” It’s gone. <em> Dean’s gone. </em> He turns back to Eileen, her face forlorn. Circling her arms around him, she squeezes him tight. Clenching his jaw as a tear falls down his check, Sam tries to focus on the situation at hand. He steps over Claire, and kneels down. “How is she?”</p><p>
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</p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Dean spits up blood from the pressure and his eyes begin to roll back. The Shadow laughs, satisfied. Preparing the final blow, Castiel interrupts, throwing the Shadow back. Dean hoarsely coughs, filling his lungs, regaining his composure, and sees Castiel swaying above him. Immediately, the flowing blue light returns its connection to Dean. The Shadow laughs dryly. </p><p>“You think you still have some fight in you, Castiel? You can hardly stand.”</p><p>“I have enough. Go,” he looks at Dean.</p><p>“What? No! We’re getting out of here together!”</p><p>“He can’t! He’s mine, Dean. Our deal is unbreakable. Non-negotiable. One angelic being for another. You’re little journey was all for nothing.” Meg’s voice taunts.</p><p>Dean stands up and walks to Castiel. “There has to be a way. I’m not leaving you here. I can’t!”</p><p>“Dean, you don’t belong here. I made my decision to save Jack and I would do it again,” he grins. Tears form in both of their eyes. Pulled apart once more, but Dean shakes his head, refusing to accept it. “I appreciate you saying it back,” Castiel softly says.</p><p>“You’re right about one thing, Dean, you’re not leaving.” The Shadow backhands Dean, flinging him a few feet away. Upon impact, the compass rolls out of Dean’s jacket pocket and lands near Castiel. The Shadow stalks forward, ramming a fist into Castiel, rendering him to the ground, before advancing to Dean. The compass lays inches within the angel’s reach. Castiel squints his eyes with curiosity. He recognizes the language on the compass, and even the artifact itself. Pushing down on the diamond, and twisting, Castiel ejects the piece from the disk, revealing a razor sharp pointed end. Looking up, Castiel sees Dean struggle under the Shadow. Pushing through shaky legs accompanied by a dull ache, the angel gets to his feet.</p><p>“How does it feel knowing you came all this way to say I love you and it wasn’t good enough?” Dean grimaces as the Shadow connects another fist to his cheek. His left cheek is swollen and bright red.</p><p>“If you’re gonna kill me, then just do it already.” He retorts.</p><p>“I am getting bored of this.” The Shadow clutches Dean’s head, sending excruciating shock waves throughout his nervous system. He cries out in agony.</p><p>“Hey!” Castiel yells, turning the Shadow toward him, piercing the diamond into its chest, disrupting it. </p><p>Castiel and Dean watch the Shadow gasp for air as its original dark form materializes and slowly crystallizes, freezing it in place. The two share a look before Dean steps forward and lightly pushes the frozen statue. Slowly, it falls to the ground into pieces. Dean huffs in surprise and glances at Castiel, both smiling. The two, finally alone and reunited after everything, share a look before wrapping their arms around one another. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, pulling the angel as close as possible. Castiel, eyes blissful, clenches onto Dean’s jacket. They stay close like that for a long moment, neither one wanting to let go. Then, sudden vibrations erupt throughout the Empty, throwing the pair off balance.</p><p>“We should go!” Dean suggests. He wraps the angel’s arm over his shoulder, hoisting him upright as they quickly follow the tether back home. Castiel questions the stream of light and Dean explains the spell and how Claire is the tether.</p><p>“How did you know that would stop her? It? Whatever.”</p><p>Castiel grins. “I’m an angel, Dean. I know almost everything.”</p><p>“Okay, wise guy. Not everything.”</p><p>“Everything mystical or cosmic related. I know a great amount. It was my job at one point. Where did you even find it? Last I saw of that, Abraham was tossing it into a river. Not sure who gave it to him.”</p><p>“Eileen found it. She and Sam have been the brains behind this operation. I’ve been-I’ve been dealing,” Dean says, avoiding Castiel’s eyes. His guilt and shame rise to his throat, bubbling like acid. </p><p>Castiel eyes Dean with a knowing, sorrowful look. “Dean, I didn’t mean to hurt you with what I confessed. I’m sorry.”</p><p>His words baffle Dean. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t what was said, Cas. It was the timing. You left and my idiot brain had no time to fully process what the hell was happening. But I finally did weeks later, and you weren’t here. And it hurt too damn much.”</p><p>“Dean-”</p><p>“We’re almost there.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'm getting close to wrapping this up. maybe two chapters left? we'll see!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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